


Just Business

by JocelynTorrent



Category: Harlots (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Corporate, Bisexual Female Character, Business AU, F/F, Romance, Slow Burn, mentions of abuse, tfw you can't stop yourself from writing absolute garbage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-08-22 02:09:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16588757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JocelynTorrent/pseuds/JocelynTorrent
Summary: Charlotte Wells is the secretary to the CEO of Harcourt Enterprises...and his lover. She never understood why Harry kept his mediocre sister around. But as she soon learns, Isabella Fitzwilliam, and the world Charlotte thinks she knows so well, are nothing like they seem.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, this is garbage. This is not said for praise or fishing for compliments. It's a simple, unedited idea that I cannot leave alone and updates are suspicious so lowered expectations are best. Secondly, there will be no rape or incest in this as there's too much in the world already. If you came for lady loving, it will defo happen, but please note that there will be some male/female sex scenes as well.

Charlotte Wells lay bent over the desk, legs spread, and contemplated the definition of irony. It had to be irony that provided this somewhat humorous fate. After all, she thought she’d done all her fucking in college. She wasn’t ashamed of her time as an escort and it certainly made an impact on her now trivial college debt. But, she thought, as the man behind her finished weakly, nails digging into her thighs, she’d be past this by now. All of her hard work and fucking to get where she was today, and she was still bent over a desk.

  
Charlotte chuckled as she straightened and smoothed out her skirt. Out of the corner of her eye, she noted him chucking a condom into his trash can and gave a small nod, moving to button her blouse.

  
“Something funny?” Harry asked, pencil lips thinned into a wry smile. Harry Fitzwilliam was the CEO of Harcourt Enterprises. A very rich, very important man, and in that sense, Charlotte supposed, she had moved up. She’d never bedded someone so powerful in her escort days. And she did earn this job on her resume, not her history. Little victories.

  
“Just thinking of English class.”

  
He shook his head at her, dismissing the subject as he turned to open the curtains. His office overlooked the city skyline, floor to ceiling windows flooding the once dimmed room in early morning light. Charlotte squinted and examined herself again. The hem of her skirt was a touch wrinkled. Perhaps sitting on it for a few hours would straighten it out.

  
“I excelled at all subjects, though I must admit, English wasn’t my favourite.” He turned, arms clasped behind his back and but for the freshly fucked smugness, looked immaculate. A bit too old for his copper coloured man-bun, who was Charlotte to judge?

  
“I quite enjoyed it,” Charlotte answered, pulling a compact out of her purse to touch up her powder.

  
“I should hope so, being a secretary and all, one must be good with,” he paused, and Charlotte felt his hand slide up her ass, “words.”

  
She turned to grin up at him. “Is that what you’d call it?”

  
He hummed, gave her ass a squeeze, and stepped back to his desk. Like that, like always, the moment between them passed. Charlotte put away her compact and turned, ready to receive his orders.

  
“The CFO is coming up this morning. I know, don’t get me started,” he added upon seeing Charlotte’s eye roll. “What can I say? I’m a man of compassion.”

  
“There’s compassion, and there’s bankruptcy. She’s going to drive this company to ruin.”

  
Harry grinned slowly, toying with the edge of a report. “You don’t think I can handle it?”

  
There was a challenge to his voice, one that brooked no argument. Charlotte smiled sweetly at him. “I know that you can. I question as to why you bother.”

  
“She’s my sister.”

  
Charlotte blinked, tongue sneaking out to wet her lips. “You enjoy it, don’t you? There’s some sort of sibling rivalry here. You like to watch her fail.”

  
Harry chuckled and reclined back in his chair. “I like to watch her barely keep her head above water. If she royally screws up I can deal with it but this,” he gestured to the door, “this is million-dollar entertainment.”

  
Charlotte couldn’t deny that. Isabella Fitzwilliam had indeed cost this company millions due to her incompetence. Harry always managed to bring it back, but the business side of her brain couldn’t help but be concerned. Isabella was risky for business, and flip-flopping profits never looked good to investors. Still, that was above her pay grade, even if she was certain she could do the CFO’s job better.

  
“Anyway,” Harry said with a wave of his hand, “send her in when she arrives.”

  
“Yes, sir.”

  
Charlotte turned on her heel and headed out the door. As she turned the corner to her desk, she nearly collided with the CFO herself. Isabella gave a soft gasp and back tracked before they bumped, dipping her head into the folders pressed at her chest.

  
“Excuse me, Miss Wells.”

  
“My fault, Miss Fitzwilliam. Shouldn’t be running in the halls.” Charlotte smiled sweetly. For her incompetence, she held Isabella no real ill will. The woman had never been anything but cordial to her. And in Charlotte’s position, the more people that liked her, the easier her job was.

  
Isabella gave a soft smile and another dip of the head. She was pretty, though. And tall. Dark hair always pulled back into a tight bun, subtle makeup, and those fucking dark rimmed glasses. Charlotte had to admit, she fantasized a little. On days like today where Harry just wasn’t hitting his mark, she’d imagine Isabella behind her just to make it interesting.

  
“You skipped a button,” spoken in that soft, subtle husk, Charlotte almost didn’t register the meaning. Until she looked down and noted her uneven blouse. Still, Charlotte had been in this position many a time, and it would take a lot more than that to redden her cheeks.

  
She chuckled and ran her hand down the buttons, “I can’t be trusted these early mornings. Thank you.”

  
Isabella nodded again, eyes darting over Charlotte’s shoulder. Charlotte took the cue and beckoned Isabella to follow. “Mr. Fitzwilliam is expecting you. Would care for something to drink? Perhaps I can order breakfast?”

  
“I’m fine, thank you, Miss Wells.”

  
“Any time,” Charlotte said, giving a wink as she rapped twice on the door. Isabella’s cheeks flushed far more easily than her own. For a woman of such imposing height and beauty, it was off-putting to see her so meek. Upon Harry’s beckoning, Charlotte opened the door and allowed Isabella inside. Harry tilted his head to his sister as one might to a toddler and gave Charlotte a wink on her way out. As Charlotte fought to subdue her chuckle, she caught Isabella’s perfume, subtle and seductive. She almost followed the woman back into the room before she caught herself. She’d have to ask about that when their meeting ended.

  
Charlotte had all but forgotten about the perfume until it graced her nose again an hour later. So caught up in her scheduling, she barely noticed Isabella walking out at a rather brisk pace. Forgetting decorum, Charlotte shot up from her chair, rounding the desk with a quick, “Hey, Isabella!”

  
The woman stopped and turned her head, fixing Charlotte with soft glare. It was surprising, refreshing to the young secretary as she closed the distance between them. It wasn’t until she was closer that she regretted calling out. Isabella’s eyes were red, chest heaving with barely restrained breaths, knuckles white as she gripped the folder. For a moment Charlotte thought she would be on the receiving end of an ass chewing. And it was a little exciting, as she’d never heard Isabella speak louder than a church mouse.

  
No sooner had she thought it, however, the look disappeared. Isabella sighed, let her shoulders fall, and nodded at Charlotte. “Yes, Miss Wells, what may I do for you?”

  
“I…I just,” Charlotte shook her head, stunned at the sudden switch, “Your perfume is lovely. What is it?”

  
Isabella’s mouth parted, searching for words before she blinked a few times and found them. “Oh, um, Tom Ford, I believe. Nordstrom’s.”

  
The words rang with finality in Charlotte’s frugal ears and she laughed softly. “Ah, I guess I’ll try to find it at the outlet then. Sorry to have interrupted you.”

  
“Not at all.” Though utterly dishevelled before, Isabella graced Charlotte with a polite smile before turning again and all but running out of the office.

  
Charlotte watched her go, wondering if this was a common theme. Isabella’s long legs gave her a brisk pace regardless, but did she always flee like that? Charlotte couldn’t say she remembered. Though neither had she ever tried to chat the woman up after a meeting. Humming to herself, Charlotte sat back down and continued to revise Harry’s schedule.

  
Her focus was short lived as Lydia Quigley walked through her door. Executive assistant to the COO, Lydia’s was the ass she hated the most to kiss. Still, the woman was older than Methuselah, and knew absolutely everything about the company and its employees. She was an ally Charlotte couldn’t afford to lose.

  
Smiling in too-red lipstick, Lydia stepped forward and dropped a stack of notes on Charlotte’s desk. “Minutes from the meeting last night. I’ve to attend another luncheon, so I’m afraid you’ll have to type these up,” she said, smile broadening. There was a lipstick stain on her tooth. Charlotte wouldn’t be the one to tell her.

  
“Absolutely not a problem,” Charlotte said with an equally saccharine smile. She scanned the notes, shaking her head at the summary. Isabella was reamed before the entire committee again, having lost a deal with the Chinese. Given their recent interaction, Charlotte couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy. Still, she believed in hard work and doing a job well and the numbers didn’t lie.

  
Lydia chuckled as she watched Charlotte’s expression. “Yes, that was the board’s consensus this morning too. I swear it’s a game to them at this point.”

  
Charlotte shrugged. “I’m torn. On the one hand, if you were good at you’re job you wouldn’t screamed at. Alternatively, she should have been fired ten times over now. So it all seems a bit…cruel.”

  
She chuckled again. “What did you expect when working for a top 500 company? Charity and new age management methods? These are the big leagues, my dear.”

  
Charlotte’s hair prickled at her words. She hated condescension more than anything. Were she not in her best skirt, she might have knocked the stain off her teeth. Lydia didn’t seem to notice.

  
“It’s elementary. They keep her around because she will do anything they tell her to. When it doesn’t work, she takes the blame. When it does, they get the glory. Poor girl should get the gumption to leave herself. But I doubt that’ll happen this century.” With that she turned and made her way out.

 

“You’ll still be around to see it, old bitch,” Charlotte muttered under her breath. She hated having to ass kiss Lydia. But she wanted the minutes. She wanted to sit in on those high-profile meetings and get the exclusive information and somewhat put her business degree to good use. She also knew for a fact that she could take minutes better than Lydia. Charlotte snarled into the document before resigning herself to the fact that today would not be her day of rebellion.

 

* * *

 

  
Karma benefited her the next morning. Harry stormed in, a few minutes late, and swept the coffee perched on the corner of Charlotte’s desk.  
“What did you get me today?”

  
“Quadruple espresso, toffee nut, whole cream.”

  
Harry hissed before flashing her a wink. “You are the naughtiest thing. Have you a fetish for obese men?”

  
Charlotte snorted as her boss sipped his coffee, humming as a thought struck him. “I want you to take minutes in the meeting with the Chinese today.”

  
“Really?” Charlotte couldn’t resist her grin, and not even Harry’s smugness could douse it.

  
“Yes. Isabella’s got one last chance to reconcile with them after her blunder yesterday. And I figured throwing you in the mix would only make it all the more interesting.”

  
Charlotte tried to hide her disappointment with a confused tilt of her head. Harry made her wait as he took another few sips of his coffee. “She won’t be expecting you, and it’ll throw her off. Personally, I think it’ll be funny. You’ll have to give me the full report,” he lifted his brows, “beyond the minutes.”

  
“You’re not coming?”

  
“No, I’ve more important things to do. She’ll be on her own.”

  
“I thought you were giving her a second chance.”

  
“I am. I didn’t say it was a fair chance.”

  
Charlotte’s brow furrowed, followed by the inevitable click of her tongue. “Harry, don’t you think that’s going too far?”

  
“I don’t believe I asked your opinion.”

  
His voice was sharp, the same tone that carried through the halls when an employee was getting fired. She felt it deep in her bones before it always settled as an uneasy stone in her gut. Harry stared down at her, finger running over the rim of his coffee cup, inclined to make her wait for as long as he desired.

  
“I was under the impression you wanted to be involved in more meetings. Do you want the minutes, or do you want to be a good girl and fetch me another coffee? This one is tepid.”

  
Beneath her desk, Charlotte’s fist clenched into the fabric of her slacks. Rarely did she make Harry mad, and along with the desire to fight back came the overwhelming fear of losing her job. Harry’s dick, she could take or leave. But this job was the stepping stone to her career. She walked a fine line here, and she had to tread it carefully. So she put on her best pouty lips, her sweetest voice, and swallowed her pride.

  
“Why can’t I do both?”

  
It took about four seconds before Harry’s stone expression melted into back into that arrogant grin. He tipped his coffee to her and she stood with a nod, adding a flirty sway to her hips as she rounded her desk to fetch more coffee.

  
All too desperate to be on time, Charlotte found herself in the meeting room a good fifteen minutes before the start time. She’d brought her laptop, of course, prepped for minute taking, and continued her secretarial duties while she waited. Because the work was mindless, she found her thoughts drifting to Harry and his sister. The rivalry was intense, to be sure. Harry was also intense. The situation tugged heavily on Charlotte’s morals. But she wasn’t here to be a good person. She was here to succeed. And in order for her to succeed in capitalism, she had to learn to turn her heart to stone.

  
The door opened behind her. Charlotte turned and watched Isabella step through. She did a double take at Charlotte’s presence before offering a soft smile and a nod. Charlotte caught the softest hint of that perfume again and let her smile come naturally.

  
“Miss Wells, forgive me, I was expecting Miss Quigley.”

  
“Mr. Fitzwilliam as that I take minutes for him today.”

  
Behind her glasses, Isabella blinked twice. “He’s not coming?”

  
“No, ma’am.”

  
Isabella’s shoulders fell but her face remained remarkably stoic. “I see. Thank you for stepping in.”

  
Charlotte couldn’t help her curious nature. “Was he supposed to be here? I admit, I didn’t have it on his calendar.”

  
“Not officially. He had said last night that he would accompany me. He wanted to give the presentation. Or so I thought.”

  
Charlotte smiled wider. It was all she could do to avoid asking more questions. Surely, Harry hadn’t fucked with her this much? Not when an important deal was on the line. Isabella set her work on the table and brought her hand up. Her fingers slid under her glasses to massage her eyelids. It was then that Charlotte noticed the bags beneath them. Perhaps she should have brought more coffee.

  
“Is there anything I can do to help?”

  
Isabella dropped her hand, her glasses falling to rest on the tip of her nose before she pushed them back up. She smiled again and shook her head. “You’re very kind. But I’ll manage.”

  
Charlotte opened her mouth to speak when the door behind her opened again. Three men stepped through, speaking Chinese, and made their way around the table. Charlotte heard Isabella speak, but it took her a moment to realize that she wasn’t speaking English. Soft greetings in Chinese as she shook the hand of every man before gesturing for them to sit. Once seated, she waved her hand to Charlotte and continued to speak in Chinese.

  
Charlotte didn’t even know enough to determine if it was Mandarin or Cantonese, but Isabella spoke it easily enough. The men nodded and then spoke again, this time in English. Isabella smiled, teeth on display. It was a rarity, and Charlotte found herself staring.

  
“Forgive me, Miss Wells, I was just asking if they would be okay with speaking English, as you’re taking minutes.”

  
Who the hell was this woman? Her voice was still airy, but confident, assured, and she sat with her spine straight, one leg crossed over the other, ready to command. Was this the same woman who fled from Harry’s office yesterday? Charlotte could only nod, stunned, and pretend to tap her hands on the keyboard. Returning the nod, Isabella continued, flipping open her folder to get to the proposal.

  
“Once again, my sincerest apologies for our previous meeting. I hope today we can reconcile and move forward.”

  
The man in the middle sat back, brow furrowing. “I don’t know, Miss Fitzwilliam. We’re considering pulling out of the deal.”  
“That would be a mistake.”

  
He gave a soft laugh. “Oh?”

  
Isabella pulled a sheet out of her file and slid it his way. “Our numbers are skyrocketing overseas. So much so that Japan is interested.”

  
“What’s stopping you?”

  
Isabella smiled. “I want you.”

  
He smiled, pleased, and leaned forward. “What are you preparing to give?”

  
“What we’ve already discussed.”

  
Charlotte’s typing hitched. She’d expected a little bit of ass-kissing, something extra to sweeten the soured deal. At least, that’s what she would have done. And given the history, she wasn’t sure if Isabella was a business model she should look up to.

  
“You can’t really expect that after the last meeting.”

  
“Previous differences aside, the offer is still competitive.”

  
He laughed again and unfolded his hands, palms facing upward. “I can see that this meeting was a waste of time. I thought you would have something better.”  
“You won’t get anything better than this.”

  
He stood to leave, gesturing for his partners to rise. Charlotte’s eyes darted between the two of them. This would have to be the shortest meeting ever. And, of course, it was her first minute taking. As they made to push in their chairs, Isabella spoke again, voice still soft.

  
“You realize that if you back out of this deal, we’ll have to cancel production of our facility in Hong Kong which would have reduced your overall costs by 23%. Not to mention that your partners in Shanghai have already agreed to our deal and will not be pleased at your backing out.”

  
He stopped and stared at her. Isabella continued, rattling off the reports simply by memory, the numbers crunched, accurate, astounding. Charlotte typed furiously, and the more she heard, the more she believed her. As far as Charlotte knew, Isabella had not told them a single lie, not even of omission. And while the deal was certainly appealing to the Chinese, Harcourt Enterprises stood to make a massive profit if it were to succeed. Isabella, it seemed, had thought of everything.

  
By the time the meeting concluded, hands had been shaken, smiles were shared, and a deal secured. Charlotte felt like she was in a twilight zone episode. And the minutes she’d been so desperate to take were a relief to finish. She closed her laptop and watched as Isabella led them to the door. She’d planned to walk them out, but was stopped, once again, by Charlotte calling her name.

  
“What was that?” Charlotte asked, standing. Even still, Isabella had a good few inches on her. The jasmine of her perfume settled in her skin and made her want to relax.

  
“What was what?”

  
“I…that,” she flung her hand towards the retreating businessmen. “Were you speaking Chinese?”

  
“Mandarin.”

  
“You know Mandarin?”

  
“I minored in it.” Isabella voiced it almost as a question, brow furrowing adorably at being grilled.

  
Charlotte cleared her throat and shook her head. “I’m sorry I just…I didn’t know. You were so impressive.”

  
Isabella shrugged, the compliment sliding off of her like a bad chill. “China is one of our biggest partners. It would be bad for business if I didn’t know the language. Though, admittedly, my Cantonese needs work.”

  
“Does Harry speak Chinese?”

  
There was a breath of a pause before her answer, but it was heavy enough to fill the room.

  
“Not that I’m aware of.”

  
Charlotte opened her mouth and let it hang for a moment as she tried to find the words. She’d expected Isabella to fumble her way through this, like the notes and Harry had always said. She expected to bury her head in second-hand embarrassment.

  
“What happened at the last meeting, may I ask?”

  
Isabella’s eyes darted to the floor. “It’s not my place to say.”

  
“I…huh, okay.”

  
“Is everything alright, Miss Wells?”

  
If there was one thing Charlotte Wells knew, it was how to read people. How to make them comfortable, relaxed, notice their discomfort and redirect it before it could percolate. In this moment, those old instincts flared. She’d all but accosted Isabella in this office. And she certainly looked like a crazy woman. She’d figure out more later. Right now, it was time to backtrack.

  
“It is. You just surprised me today. In a very good way.” Charlotte smiled, beamed, rather, and let her eyes roll back. “Also I’m still very much in love with that perfume.”

  
“Oh,” Isabella breathed out a shy laugh. She tucked a non-existent hair behind her ear. Charlotte watched her hand trail her neck as they lingered. Short nails, long fingers, intriguing. “Thank you. I’m…glad you like it.”

  
“Very much. I hope I have the pleasure of taking more minutes for you, Miss Fitzwilliam.”

  
The woman smiled, cheeks flush, and made for the door. Like yesterday, she all but fled. But, Charlotte sensed, it was for an altogether different reason. It seemed that, like everyone else in this company, she had severely underestimated Isabella Fitzwilliam. Right then and there, Charlotte made it her mission to find out just what else she’d been wrong about.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone for their kind words on the first chapter! I had this entire chapter written and then it somehow got deleted off the face of the earth so I had to rewrite it and my second drafts are never as good as my firsts so apologies for that. That's why it's a bit shorter too :/ Thanks for your patience!

That afternoon, Charlotte stepped into Harry’s office. He was on the phone, but smiled as she opened the door, and beckoned her further in. Stack of papers held to her chest, Charlotte waited at the end of his desk, smirking at him every time their eyes met. Boys were so easy in that regard. A little feigned interest and they would eat out of the palm of your hand. Quite literally, as some of her escort experiences had proven. 

Harry let the conversation dawdle, asking questions Charlotte knew weren’t important to keep her waiting. She didn’t mind. Little sacrifices for bigger payoff. When he finally hung up the call, she dropped the stack of papers in front of him, finger tracing designs on the top sheet. 

“Minutes for you.”

He looked queerly down at the document. “Paper copies? How medieval.”

“Well, that’s not the only reason I’m here.”

She could tell by the look in his eyes that she’d absolutely chosen the wrong words. He smiled and leaned back in his chair, reaching for the button of his slacks. She walked behind him as he fumbled and closed the curtains, dropping to her knees. His cock was only semi-hard, and she took the opportunity to stroke it firmer. 

“Isabella really was impressive,” she began.

Harry hummed in the back of his throat. “Yes, well, I suppose she has her moments.”

“But, I don’t know, she seemed to know her stuff. I just thought it odd, given that she’s usually described as so inept.”

To pepper her question with sweetness, she bent down and kissed the top of his flared tip. Harry sighed and gripped the back of her head. In no position to argue, Charlotte took him in her mouth. Given that this was not her motivation for being here, she wasted no time on teasing or foreplay, instead pulling out all of her tricks to get him to finish early.

Harry gasped, hips rocking. He dipped his head back against the chair and kept his hand on her head. 

“I’d rather hoped that Isabella would make the situation worse,” Harry grunted out through his moans. 

Charlotte made a face but kept her head down. She didn’t like Isabella’s name coming out as a moan from Harry’s mouth. Though, she supposed she couldn’t blame him entirely. It was likely just a coincidence of her skill. Still, she picked up the pace, eager to finish this.

“Then I might be able to come in for the grand save. Still, good to know that my sister has her uses.” Upon finishing his sentence, his hips jerked out of rhythm as he finished. 

Charlotte pulled back with a bit of a sigh and felt Harry cup her cheek. He smiled at her, very briefly, before speaking again. “Lydia will be taking over the minutes again.”

Charlotte must have made a face, for Harry returned the expression she was most certainly thinking. “What, did you think she’d died? Oh, come now,” he added as she made yet another face. Charlotte rose to her feet and straightened her skirt, hearing Harry’s passive aggressive sigh behind her. 

As she moved to open the curtains, Harry came up behind her. He pressed his chest to her back, arms sliding around her waist. It was oddly intimate, especially for someone like Harry. It felt nice, even if not quite right, and Charlotte closed her eyes and focused on the warmth, the touch. 

“Let me make it up to you,” he murmured by her ear.

“How?”

“Did you think I’d forgotten your birthday?”

“Honestly? Yes.”

He chuckled at that. “Don’t make plans Friday night. You’re all mine.”

For all of her ulterior motives, Charlotte did love a good pampering. It was rare that Harry took her anywhere outside of this building. But the man was not short on funds or ego, and on the rare occasion that he took Charlotte out, he always delivered. So she let her smile be genuine, her hum delighted, and her mood pacified. 

* * *

Harry, as always, delivered. The restaurant was the city’s newest, hottest, and most expensive. It being her birthday, Charlotte tested the limits of Harry’s wallet, ordering what she wanted in both food and drink. Each time she ordered another twenty dollar cocktail Harry just grinned. It left her positively buzzed by the time they stumbled out of the restaurant and into his private limo. 

Full on wonderful food and drink, Charlotte sighed as she slid into the limo and pressed her head against the cool glass window, watching the city lights fly by. She allowed the hand on her knee when she felt it, and allowed it to travel further up her thigh. This was one of her best dresses; she couldn’t blame him for liking it. 

Harry tugged and she followed, swinging her legs over his lap. “This has been a good birthday,” she said in her best sex voice.

She felt him grin against her lips. “It’s not over yet. Your present is at my place.”

Charlotte accepted his tongue then, and hid her disappointment behind closed eyes. She was so utterly satisfied that she wanted nothing more than to head home and finish it off with a nice sleep. She had expected a handjob or even just car sex on the way back to her flat. Still, this evening had been a valiant effort on his part, and Harry was a man who enjoyed his ego stroked. So she applied the mask she often wore during her escort days. A mask that let her mind wander and her body obey. 

“You spoil me,” she teased when they broke apart, reaching for the champagne in the mini bar to keep her buzz up. 

“Don’t you deserve it?”

His hand went between her thighs, fingers brushing against her sex. She wasn’t wet at all, but she’d learned long ago that men rarely noticed such things. 

“You deserve this too,” he all but sneered, sliding a single finger inside of her. It was just the knuckle, and it didn’t hurt, so she brought him into another kiss.

By the time they’d reached his apartment, Charlotte found herself exceedingly more aroused. They stumbled out of the limo and into the lobby of Harry’s apartment complex. Harcourt Enterprises owned the building. Charlotte had visited a time or two, but the luxurious lobby looked much more vast in the empty early morning hours. 

Harry stood behind her as they waited for the elevator to come up from the garage. He wasn’t shy about fondling her breasts, and she returned the favor by grinding against the bulge in his pants. She could feel the animal-like desire seeping off of him. It felt primal, almost frightening in its intensity. A part of her liked that too. When he grabbed her chin for a fierce kiss, she moaned into his mouth. 

Neither of them noticed the ding of the elevator or the doors sliding open. It was the soft, “Going up?” that pulled them both from each other. 

Charlotte had no shame when it came to sex. In that capacity, given that her job was keeping people happy, she  _ detested _ making people uncomfortable. She pulled away quickly and stepped out of Harry’s grasp, prepared to charm the occupant of the elevator with one of her shy smiles.

That smiled faded quickly faded when she saw who was inside. 

Isabella Fitzwilliam stood inside the elevator, single finger pressed against the ‘Hold’ button. The alcohol had all the lights in Charlotte’s vision blurring, but she could swear she saw daggers in those eyes. 

For a woman who felt no shame, she was suddenly very filled with it. Strangers she could handle. Isabella had power. Power over Charlotte’s position, and potentially power over her future. And here she looked, once again, like a common harlot. Charlotte dipped her head, hands unconsciously roaming her dress for wrinkles. Isabella’s eyes, though sharp, did not meet her own. They seemed to stare right through her and into the lobby.

If Harry noticed any discomfort, he made no showing of it. Instead, he barrelled forward, arms outstretched. “Isabella!” he said as he stepped inside, Charlotte following. “Late night?”

As Charlotte took another glance at the woman, she noticed that she was, in fact, in the same suit from this morning. Her makeup was a bit caked from being on too long, and the bags under her eyes seemed even darker. Over her shoulder was a messenger bag, zipper straining at the contents. Late night didn’t seem to cover it. 

Charlotte watched as Isabella gave a wince at her brother’s hug, face molding into a scowl as his erection grazed her thigh. Mercifully for the women, the hug ended near as soon as it began.    
“I’m afraid so,” Isabella near-whispered, letting the doors close and pushing the buttons for the floors. Harry had the entirety of the 75th skyfloor to himself. Isabella, she noticed, also pressed the 50th. 

Once the elevator began to move, Harry was upon her again. Oblivious or uncaring of his sister’s presence, he pushed Charlotte against the back wall and began to kiss her again. Charlotte felt herself torn between the siblings. Over Harry’s shoulder she could see Isabella’s eyes firmly locked on the seam of the doors. Her back was straight as an arrow, and the hand on her messenger bag showed white knuckles. 

She pushed against Harry and he obliged, leaning back to knock his sister’s elbow. “It’s Charlotte’s birthday, did you know? We’re celebrating.”

For the first time in this elevator ride from hell, their eyes met. The eyes that Charlotte could have sworn held daggers softened, and pursed lips thinned into a smile. “I wasn’t. Happy birthday, Charlotte.”

Charlotte nodded, hoping her smile looked sincere. She meant it, truly, but she was too overwhelmed with the situation to do much more. Harry was being wholly unprofessional, but Isabella had already seen them in the lobby. Come Monday, she’d be probably be fired. And a part of her was certain she deserved it. 

Those blue eyes left her own, breaking the spell. Harry was upon her immediately again. Charlotte could have sworn she saw Isabella stiffen at that, but Harry’s shoulder got in the way. What felt like hours later, the elevator reached the 50th floor. Isabella waited until there was just enough room to squeeze through before bolting out of the elevator. Charlotte couldn’t blame her, and when the doors shut again, she pushed Harry off of her.

“What was that?” she asked.

“What?” Harry stepped back at her push only to move forward again, this time latching onto her neck.

“You just groped me in front of your sister.”

“So?”

“You don’t think that’s a problem?”

“No.”

“Well I do.”

“Why do you care?” Harry pulled back then, brows furrowed. Charlotte got that familiar sense that she was on the precipice of his ire but pushed forward anyway.

“I could lose my job.”

“Oh,” Harry scoffed, eyes rolling to the ceiling. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Are you sure?”

“You’re not the first secretary she’s seen me bring home. And you probably won’t be the last. You, my dear, are nothing special.”

The words hit Charlotte harder than she thought they would. She had no misconceptions about her arrangement with Harry, and perhaps it was the alcohol that made her sensitive this evening. Either way, she wasn’t entirely unaccustomed to it and applied her mask again. 

When the elevator finally stopped, Harry her guided her through his house with a hand on her back. He didn’t offer her a drink but led her to the bedroom. On top of the silk crimson sheets sat a wrapped box. At Harry’s beckoning, she opened it. Inside was new lingerie, handcuffs, and a blindfold. Had the elevator not happened, she might have been surprised. Now, she wanted nothing more than to go home. Even as she smiled and let Harry apply the handcuffs.


	3. Chapter 3

Come Monday morning, Charlotte fully expected to find a pink slip on her desk. After what she had dubbed the “Friday Fiasco,” she needed the rest of the weekend to calm down. She didn’t leave Harry’s apartment until the early morning, slightly hungover and sore, and avoided the number 50 button on the elevator all the way down.

She’d spent the whole weekend running through her options. She could quit before she was fired and leave with some dignity. She could call Isabella and grovel. She could buy a few pints of ice cream and look proper bloated for firing. In the end, options exhausted and nowhere closer to an answer, Charlotte held her head up and moved on. Head still high, she marched into her office, eyes scanning the desk immediately for a shade of pink.

There was pink on her desk. But it was not a slip. It was a box. Small and cutely wrapped, it sat patiently in front of her keyboard. Charlotte allowed her face to display a litany of confused and intrigued expressions as she dropped her purse. She lifted and examined the box, finding no note. An impish part of her considered the fact that perhaps Isabella had sent her a bomb, or some poison, and she allowed herself to giggle.

Alternatively, perhaps Harry sent her a present. Another ego stroke to what he thought was a wonderful birthday present. Or an apology gift. Though that didn’t make sense as Harry had no knowledge he’d offended.

Bored of being simply curious, Charlotte slid her nail along the tape and began to open the box. The moment the wrapper slid free and she read the name on the box, Charlotte couldn’t help but smile. As soon as she opened the box, the scent hit her, and she smiled. She now owned a two hundred dollar bottle of perfume.

The subtle jasmine scent brought Isabella and a conundrum to her mind. She could have sworn she was going to be fired today. Or at the very least, receive an ass chewing. Truly, that might not have been so bad. A part of her wondered what it was like to witness Isabella cross, to hear her voice raise beyond that near-whisper.

But the last thing she had expected was a present. Charlotte set the perfume back on her desk and drummed her fingers on it. It was a good twenty minutes before her shift started. And another forty five before Harry would even walk in the door. She remembered on Friday that Isabella had worked late. Perhaps she came in early, as well.

Dropping her gift and her purse in a drawer, she near-sprinted out of her office and down the hall. Being so early, Isabella’s own secretary was not in yet, the office dark. Under Isabella’s office door, however, she could see a thin line of golden light and knocked twice.

Upon Isabella’s beckoning, Charlotte stepped inside. Isabella’s office was not as big as Harry’s, but it was nice. Same floor to ceiling windows, bookshelves on either side of her desk, and plush chairs for guests. The woman in question sat at her desk, intently focused on the screen. She turned away when the door closed, eyes bright and smiling, only to falter a bit when they laid upon Charlotte.

If Charlotte had been at all uncertain about who bought the present, Isabella’s flushed cheeks would have cleared the doubt immediately. She smiled and eased herself into one of the plush chairs. “Do I have you to thank for my new perfume, Miss Fitzwilliam?”

Isabella blinked twice, lips parting to find words. It wasn’t until she adjusted her glasses that she spoke.

“I do hope it is not untoward. You’d mentioned it was your birthday and I just, I thought...I’m sorry if--

“I love it,” Charlotte interrupted. She leaned forward in her chair, elbows on her knees. The sincerity in her face was not a mask. “Thank you.”

Isabella swallowed and gave a nod, shoulders losing some of their stiffness. “You’re welcome.”

“If I may, I half expected to walk in today and get fired.”

Isabella seemed utterly shocked at the notion, and did not try to subdue her expression. “Whatever for?”

Charlotte paused a moment, trying to gauge whether or not Isabella was toying with her. “For...Friday night.”

“Oh.” Isabella exhaled the word, voice even softer than normal, and turned back to her computer screen. Charlotte watched her eyes dance across the page as she focused on an email. “What you do outside of this building is none of my concern.”

Any sweetness that lingered on Isabella’s tongue was gone. Charlotte bit her lip, thinking of all the times she and Harry had dallied in his office. They might have to be a bit more careful. Despite her words, Isabella’s feathers were clearly still ruffled from that evening. Charlotte’s instincts compelled her to make it right.

“Miss Fitzwilliam, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. If there’s anything I can do--

“Isabella is fine,” she said, crossing her arms and turning from the computer again. Charlotte could tell she was angry, but her words were even, eyes still soft as they met again. “And you need not apologize. My brother,” she paused, took a breath, and let her shoulders fall with a shake of her head.

Charlotte knew there would be no continuing that sentence. Isabella had a far greater sense of professionalism than her brother. Despite her want for more information, she simply smiled.

“Well, thanks again for the perfume. I’ll have to make it up to you,” Charlotte said as she stood, preparing to leave.

Isabella shook her head, the constraints of their conversation leaving the room. She was quite pretty like that, Charlotte thought. Innocent, kind, smile sincere. Perhaps it was a rare sight. And perhaps that’s why Charlotte had noticed.

She’d only just put her hand on the door when she heard the sound of a desk chair moving. She turned back and found Isabella standing, palms running down the sides of her blazer to smooth it. Being caught a little sooner than expected, Isabella took a moment to collect herself. Charlotte watched the moment as if it was in slow motion. Isabella’s face, while beautiful, held much to read, to decipher. She watched her tongue just grace the back of her lips, watched those eyes dance, watched the long column of her neck bend as she tried to find the words. All of this in a matter of moments, but telling all the same.

“Miss Wells, I just...just be careful around my brother?”

“Why?” Charlotte turned and walked back into the room. “Is he dangerous?”

She’d meant it as a joke, but Isabella didn’t answer. Charlotte felt a tendril of fear graze the back of her neck. She’d been with dangerous calls before as an escort, but had hoped to leave that path behind. Harry could be rough, certainly, but dangerous? She thought to those few times when his words had put her in her place, made her search for the nearest exit.

“It’s simply a delicate situation, this.” Isabella swept her hand around the office. “There’s a lot of potential in you. I’d hate for it to be ruined.”

Charlotte tilted her head. “Is that a threat?”

“What? No.”

“Then what? Does he have an STD? Do I need to get tested?”

“I’m certain I wouldn’t know.”

“Then what? You can’t just say something like that and expect me not to wonder.” Her voice raised before Charlotte could catch it. She swallowed it back and sighed. Whatever potential Isabella thought she had was likely just thrown out the window. Still, she couldn’t blame a girl for being curious. She knew that the line she walked was thin and that there was a long fall beneath her.

Isabella ripped her glasses off, holding them between two fingers as she rubbed her eyes with her other hand. Charlotte watched the glasses shake in her uneven hand. Isabella looked an empowering sight in her blazer and tall stature, perfectly coiffed bun. But here, in her office, she looked positively rattled. And everything seemed to go back to Harry.

Finally, Isabella lifted her head. She looked different without her glasses, but certainly not bad. And without the frames to hide them, Charlotte was drawn to the bags beneath her eyes yet again.

“Charlotte,” she began. Charlotte liked the way her name sounded from that sweet little voice, and dared closer. They were on either side of the desk, Isabella nearly a head taller and towering over her, but unimposing just the same. Charlotte watched those lips part, waited for the answer, and heard a familiar pattern of knocks on the door.

“Miss Fitzwilliam,” Lydia half-sang as she barged into the office without beckoning. She had one of her grandest and most counterfeit smile on, and it impressively did not waiver as she came upon the sight.

Charlotte knew Lydia and her type all too well, however. Beneath the white hair and wrinkles rested a ruthless bitch. One who would spread gossip and nurture lies to make the tides of Harcourt Enterprises swing her way. Charlotte could see nothing wrong with her being in Isabella’s office, but the way that Lydia’s mood seemed to brighten made her think there was something she was missing.

“Oh, do forgive my intrusion. I’m simply here to drop off the Meyer report.” Her eyes danced between the two of them as she rounded Charlotte.

Isabella mumbled a soft thanks as she took the report from Lydia, flipping it open. For all of her readable expressions, Isabella had an uncanny knack for being able to switch into business mode at the drop of a hat. Gone were the wary shoulders, the pouty lips, and shaking hands. Back was her high and mighty CFO who had just last week put the Chinese in their place.

Lydia ignored all the signs that beckoned her to leave and watched Isabella read over the document. “Such a shame to have misread the numbers again. Mr. Fitzwilliam had such high hopes for this project.”

The words embedded into the armor at Isabella’s back and began to chink. Charlotte could hear it in the shake of Isabella’s voice.

“Thank you, Miss Quigley, that will be all,” she said with her eyes still downcast. She lifted them only to look at Charlotte. “Forgive me, Miss Wells, I must attend to this.”

Charlotte nodded and felt it only right to help Isabella with her Lydia situation. She wanted more information, wanted to talk to Isabella without interruptions. But business was business and Charlotte didn’t see the sense in kicking someone while they were down. A pastime Lydia seemed to relish.

Again, Lydia seemed perfectly content to stand there and gloat over whatever Isabella had done wrong. But Isabella’s actions told Charlotte that she hated Lydia just as much. She felt practically noble as she looped her arm through Lydia’s and began to escort the skeleton back to her crypt.

“Come along, Lydia,” she began, leading her out and closing the door behind them.

“And what were you two doing in the wee hours of the morning?” Lydia asked, removing herself from Charlotte’s grasp.

Charlotte smiled her best smile. “It was my birthday Friday, and she was simply wishing me well.”

“Then I will do the same. Happy belated birthday, Charlotte. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve some matters I must attend.”

Charlotte watched her go, spring in her step, and bit her lip. Lydia was most certainly up to something. As to what, Charlotte would have to simply wait and see what unfolded. She could only hope that Lydia’s games were more directed at her than Isabella. The woman seemed like to collapse as it was. Sparing one last glance at the office door, Charlotte made her way back to her own desk.

She picked up the perfume and smelled it once again. Still lovely. But, Charlotte thought, as she placed it back in her drawer, she liked it better when it rested on Isabella.

With Isabella in mind, she turned on her computer and opened up her information Meyer. They’d been looking to buy out the company. And the numbers, updated yesterday, were miles off of the projection. Charlotte sighed as she studied the report. Isabella had fucked up yet again. But Charlotte had seen first hand just how good she was.

Perhaps Isabella was being sincere when she warned her about Harry. And perhaps she was speaking from experience. She’d just have to do a little more digging to be sure.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone again for the kind words. I plan to update this story at least every week, most likely on weekends. However, I cannot make any guarantees as I have a hectic work schedule. Rest assured that if I chose to not continue the fic, I would let you know. Enjoy.

When Harry came in that morning, his eyes went directly to the corner of her desk. So focused on the Meyer report, Charlotte realized then that she’d forgotten to get his morning coffee. She stood, thinking quickly. 

“Where’s my coffee?” he asked, only slightly playful.

“I was thinking you’d like something a little sweeter this morning.”

Harry grinned and roved his eyes over her body. “Your nectar is quite lovely, however, I expect coffee every morning.” 

There was a bite sneaking into his voice. Charlotte had never forgotten his coffee before, and Isabella’s warning replayed in her mind, throwing off her game. “Then I shall fetch it. And seek my punishment after?”

His face relaxed then, pleased. With a single nod, he went back into his office. Charlotte smiled to herself, the fear gone. She was a capable woman. And she had been handling Harry ever since she started. Wherever his “danger” lay, Charlotte was certain she could handle it. 

And she did, returning to the report as soon as soon as she had Harry caffeinated and scheduled for the day. Meyer was a similar, less fortunate company that Harcourt hoped to acquire. It had been in the works for months, much like the Chinese deal. 

Charlotte scanned the document for anything that stood out. But all she could find was, yet again, gross miscalculations on Isabella’s part. Charlotte supposed that she could be a very good businesswoman who was extremely bad at math. It seemed highly unlikely. Charlotte tapped her nails against the desk in the thought. Her eyes lifted, idly scanning the office, listening. Her four walls were made of glass, allowing her to see the lobby of the administrative floor. People were milling about, staring at computers. The other secretaries seemed rather engrossed. Harry, she could hear coming before he opened his door. 

It was absolutely not allowed. But Charlotte’s curious nature would always get the better of her. She opened up the folder containing the company’s most intimate financial records. When Charlotte first started at Harcourt Enterprises, IT had given her access by mistake. It was a mistake Charlotte knew better than to correct. 

It wasn’t allowed for everyone to see because it included employee salaries, but that was the least important factor in Charlotte’s mind. She opened the Excel file, filled with a dozen or so tabs of categories, and began to read.

A part of her felt like a spy, a secret agent. Immature, perhaps, but Charlotte smiled nonetheless. She looked through the numbers, crunching them in her head or on paper as she went. Nothing seemed too out of the ordinary. The file was maintained by Isabella and her small team and so far nothing seemed out of place. Charlotte hummed aloud to hide her disappointment.

Then again, she was working for a major international company. Any financial schemes or gimmicks wouldn’t be so easy to track. She’d have to dig a little deeper, and she was toeing the line as it was.

Since she was already in there, Charlotte abated her disappointment by clicking on the salaries tab. Harry made a ridiculous amount of money, which was unsurprising. Charlotte squinted at the screen as she made her way down the list that started with administration. She blinked a few times and looked again. 

For her position at this company, Isabella made pennies. It was still exorbitant, of course. Isabella lived in the same high rise as Harry, after all. But compared to the rest of the administrators, she was making a good 75% less at least. Perhaps that was a punishment for her consistent mistakes. 

Whatever the reasons, Charlotte wouldn’t find them in this file. She closed it with a huff, but not before looking at Lydia’s salary. Lydia also made a hell of a lot more than Charlotte. It was also unsurprising, given her tenure. But Charlotte added it to the list of reasons to hate Lydia Quigley.

She couldn’t get the meeting with the Chinese out of her mind and replayed it over in her head. Then she thought of everything leading up to this moment, including the Meyer report, came up empty.

Chiding herself for thinking she could solve something so easily, Charlotte huffed sat back in her desk and closed her eyes. She thought of Isabella and that quick mind that she had witnessed. What would it be like to speak to her without the constraints of work. Was she still as skittish as doe, or was she stronger? Who was the real Isabella Fitzwilliam? Charlotte was inclined to believe it was the latter. But until she got another meeting or met the woman outside of work (and not in an elevator mid-fuck of her brother) it would simply be another matter to ponder.

 

* * *

 

Observant was one of Charlotte’s greatest traits. Whether it was inborn something learned, she liked to think she was pretty good at it. She had to be, given her previous job. She was trained to look for signs of danger in her most vulnerable moments. And she was tried to always have the proper response. In order to do that, she needed to look between the lines of her clients and see what they really wanted.

It didn’t take a master of observation to notice the change in the office come Tuesday, however. The moment Charlotte stepped out of the elevator, coffee in both hands and blowing her bangs out of her eyes, she felt a shift.

The eyes upon her were not cruel, but incredibly curious. Where they used to ignore her or pass by, they lingered, studying her every move. The office had the subtle static of chatter but it qa quieter, subdued. They were speaking more in whispers than voices. And it very likely concerned her. 

Charlotte did not quicken her pace or lose her smile. In fact, she met the eyes of everyone staring as she passed, bidding them a good morning. Some dropped immediately or smiled and looked away. Others held her gaze, unafraid or intimidated of being caught. Charlotte wasn’t sure what to make of that. Either they were simply brave, incompetent, or they trusted in whatever information they’d received to challenge her. 

Gossip was no stranger to this office. Both administration and their secretaries liked to prattle on about any old thing. It was a nice break from the mundane. Lydia Quigley was the biggest mouth of them all. Those who were smart would use it to their advantage, speaking to Lydia when they wanted something spread. Those less intelligent were usually the victims. Whether Charlotte liked it or not, she knew that Lydia ran this floor, pulling the strings to make the puppets play. 

Making her way to her desk, Charlotte set Harry’s coffee on the corner and sipped her own. She’d applied Isabella’s perfume this morning and she brought her wrist to her nose. It was calming, but Charlotte could now confirm she liked it much better on Isabella than herself. She smiled at the thought even though her mind was clouded with worry. Perhaps Lydia had somehow found out that Charlotte had been in the financial files. For all of Harry’s endearment towards her, that was definitely an offense worthy of the sack. 

Maybe the folder could be tracked. Maybe IT found out and notified admin. Charlotte started up her computer and quickly dragged the file to the recycle bin. It wouldn’t fool IT, but if Harry took matters into his own hands Charlotte may have a chance. 

So focused in saving her ass, Charlotte jumped when her phone rang. She swore under her breath and eyed the number, curious to find that it was Harry’s extension. 

“Good morning, sir,” she said as she picked up the line.

_ “Finally, you’re here. I’ve been calling for ages.” _

Charlotte rolled her eyes at that. She was early, and time had very different meanings to the both of them. “I’m sorry, sir. I have your coffee. Shall I bring it to you?”

_ “Please.” _

Charlotte hung up the phone and turned off her monitor before making her way to Harry’s office. She knocked twice and stepped inside. He was not sitting at his desk, but standing in front of it. His eyes twinkled in amusement, legs crossed at the ankle as he leaned back against the wood. Whatever gossip had been spread, he was very much privy to it, and enjoying every second. 

“Are you a lesbian?” he asked, no sooner than Charlotte had shut the door.

“Bisexual, why?” 

Harry took the coffee and grinned as he took a long sip. He always liked to make her wait. When he lowered the cup he played with the lid, trying and failing to keep the smile from his mouth. “Rumor says you’ve the hots for my sister.”

Charlotte scoffed, and it was genuine. She’d remembered Lydia catching them in Isabella’s office. And the relief that flooded her allowed her exhale into a laugh. 

“Wherever did you hear that?”

Harry shrugged. “Not a lesbian, then?”

Charlotte sighed and dragged her finger down the buttons of his shirt. “Think back to all the fun we’ve had together. How wet you made me. Did that seem disingenuous?”

He smiled and shook his head. “Not a lesbian then. Bisexual. Should have told me. I could have made our interactions a lot more interesting.”

“You still can.”

There was still something behind Harry’s eyes. A question or comment begging to be spoken. Charlotte could feel the tension in the room, waiting to snap like a taut string. Harry could pull at her better than anyone else she knew, but it never made it any easier. 

“You’re sure you’re not lusting after her?” he asked once again. “Haven’t taken her into your mouth, left marks on her skin?”

The conversation made her uncomfortable. It was odd to hear him speak of his sister so sexually. Charlotte could understand if it was coming from a protective standpoint, but she could swear she felt him seething for an entirely different reason. She just prayed that she was wrong. 

“I am not and have not.”

Harry leaned forward. Charlotte tilted her head, allowing him to draw his nose up the side of her neck. “Then why do you smell of her?”

He breathed it out, barely restrained, as if he was already in the midst of orgasm. Charlotte turned and kissed his cheek, hoping to calm him. “I mentioned I liked her perfume. She told me what it was and I bought some for myself.”

Harry pulled away, flushed. There was no mistaking the desire in his eyes, but there was something else there, too. 

“Is that what you talk about? Perfume and shopping and girly things? All while losing billions in deals to the Chinese.” He brought his hand up to stroke her neck, toying with the curls of hair that. Charlotte felt like she was tempting a snake, and she braced for the bite. 

“She secured that deal. We spoke of it after the meeting.”

“And then you fucked her.”

Charlotte forced herself to laugh. “No. We’ve barely had two interactions. What’s got you so jealous, hmm?” She put out her best, poutiest lips, and stepped closer. In some respects, Harry was a simple man. So she took a simple approach. She took the hand that was at her neck and lowered it, setting it between her legs. “Look what you do to me, and only you.”

Harry closed his eyes and leaned in again. He inhaled sharply against her neck and shuddered against her. In a moment they were on the floor. Harry’s actions were wild, passionate. Charlotte could only struggle to keep up and keep her clothes from getting torn. He moaned the moment he was inside of her, nose pressed to her neck as he thrusted. When he lost the scent there, he grabbed her wrist and did the same. He finished quickly, never once opening his eyes. 

Charlotte felt the need to vomit, but swallowed it down. This wasn’t her first time with a pervert. But it was her first time at knowing the victim. Charlotte didn’t believe, but in that moment she prayed that this was a fantasy and nothing more. It wasn’t exactly something she could just outright ask, after all. 

Harry collected himself on top of her, breathing heavily, before he finally pulled away. He opened his eyes and smiled down at her. “I believe you,” he said finally, pulling himself out of her. “But let this be a warning. Don’t ever, ever touch my sister.”

He leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose. It felt like a knife to her neck. She nodded, swallowing with a dry mouth, and picked herself from the floor. Harry did not acknowledge her again as she redressed and made her way out. She hadn’t felt this dirty in a very long time, and allowed herself to shake as a shiver ran up her spine. It was no wonder why Isabella thought him dangerous.

At her desk, her work stagnated, mind too focused on everything that had happened. Charlotte needed a shower and some answers. She wasn’t going to get them from Harry. And she risked much by going back to Isabella. 

“Fuck it,” Charlotte said, rising from her desk. This was worth it. She slapped her hands on her thighs and made her way out the door. 

Isabella held the answers. And Isabella was the one person in this whole building that she could tolerate. She was also the one who may be in the most trouble. And Charlotte wasn’t one to ignore a damsel in distress. Fuck the gossip and fuck Harry Fitzwilliam. People stared and talked again. Charlotte paid them no mind, head held high as she marched her way right into Isabella’s office. 

Her own secretary looked up from her phone, and nodded when Charlotte mouthed if Isabella was available. Wasting no other time, she knocked before stepping inside, closing the door behind her. 

Isabella looked up from her computer and gave a soft smile as she neared. Charlotte returned it, striding right up to the desk. “Have you heard the rumors?”

“Which rumors?” Charlotte watched Isabella brace herself for more bad news. Those eyes held so much sadness.

“Apparently, we’re having an illicit, lesbian affair.”

There was a pregnant pause. Then Isabella gave a soft laugh, cheeks blushing cherry red. “However did that start?”

“I think it was Quigley catching us in here, in the nude and fucking, of course.”

It was a risk, being so crude in front of the CFO. But Isabella laughed again, bringing a hand to her scarlett cheek. Charlotte quite liked the sound. 

“And upon these hearing these rumors, you simply walk yourself back into my office and close the door.”

Charlotte could hear the slight amusement in her voice. She may have been a little impressed, as well. “I admit, I was worried I’d chased you off last time.”

Charlotte thought of the warning Isabella gave yesterday and suppressed another shudder to smile instead. “You can’t chase me off that easily. In fact, I was wondering if you’d like to go to happy hour, sometime.”

Isabella’s eyebrows rose, looking very much like a deer in the headlights. Charlotte’s smile widened. 

“O-oh, um, do you suppose that’s appropriate? With these, these rumors.”

“I’m not afraid of them.” Charlotte stepped in closer, palms on Isabella’s desk as she leaned forward. “I’ll even let you pick the place.” Surely, Isabella of all people would know the places Harry wouldn’t frequent. It would make it easier to get the information she wanted. Information on Harry, Harcourt, Isabella, all of it. She was insatiable now. On the cusp of something huge. 

“I think we’re on the verge of being friends, Miss Fitzwilliam. And damn Harry or anyone else who wants to get in the way.”

“How forward.” It touched a nerve. Isabella searched Charlotte’s face. Charlotte wondered if she was looking for the same signs of danger that Charlotte herself had been forced to learn. While she had been laughing before, the mood had changed. Isabella was guarded, unsure. Charlotte didn’t want to think about what had made her that way. Bringing up Harry was another gamble, but she wanted to declare herself before Isabella as an ally. She only hoped that Isabella could see it. 

So she smiled her best smile. “Isabella. Happy hour?”

Isabella almost smiled, and looked to the side, considering. Charlotte didn’t move. Finally, she gave a soft nod, voice quiet as she spoke again. 

“There’s an Indian fusion place I’m quite fond of.”

Charlotte’s smile widened. “Harry hates Indian.”

Isabelle blushed at being caught, her voice a touch stronger when she said, “That he does.”

“Perfect.”


	5. Chapter 5

Charlotte could barely contain her excitement as the day winded down. To elude any more workplace suspicions, she left before Isabella, the both of them agreeing to meet at the restaurant. She had never heard of the place, but when the cab pulled up, she felt a little underdressed. She was still in her skirt and blouse, but the name out front was written only in Hindi and the windows weren’t see through. She’d been to enough of these places throughout the city to know it was going to be ridiculously, wonderfully pretentious.

These were the places her dates would take her when she was an escort. Something over the top where tap water could feed a small country. Men liked to flaunt their wealth and stature. They were ridiculously predictable. Which was why Charlotte found this choice of restaurant odd.

Truth told, she didn’t think that Isabella had such expensive taste. She bought two hundred dollar perfume instead of two thousand and Charlotte had seen the woman bring her lunch from home on more than one occasion. She was an upper class woman living a middle class life. Upper middle class, maybe, but even still. She didn’t think that Isabella would neglect to consider their considerable financial difference. One drink here would probably cost her the whole night.

Nevertheless, Charlotte was no stranger to these places. In an entirely different jungle, it was still eat or be eaten, and she was no one’s prey. She walked in and gazed upon the sterility of modern design. The kitchen was hidden from sight, as were the smells, but the bar was large and enticing. Making her way towards it, she was stopped by the hostess.

“Ma’am, your name, please?”

Charlotte paused in her step and faced them, not bothering to hide her expression. “I need a name to sit at the bar?”

The hostess smiled one of those elite bitch smiles. Behind her, a taller man in a suit stood. Despite all that she’d learned, Charlotte was street woman at heart. She couldn’t help her scoff as she eyed the burly man. “Are you trying to intimidate me? What are you going to do, throw me out on my ass? And risk losing one of your precious Michelin stars?”

The woman’s smile relaxed dismissively. “Ma’am, do you have a reservation or not?”

“For a bar? No, no I don’t. That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard of.”

“Then perhaps you should go somewhere else.”

“Oh, I’d fucking love to. As soon as my friend, Isabella Fitzwilliam, gets here, I might suggest that to her.”

The woman’s smile fell before she could catch it. Charlotte’s got wider.

“You are Miss Fitzwilliam’s plus one.”

“I am.”

The bouncer sat back down as the hostess grabbed menus and gave a bow. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your table.”

Charlotte didn’t bother to wipe the smug look from her face as she let the woman lead her through the restaurant. She walked her to the back of the bar, in a quiet corner away from the TVs and speakers and sat her down in a rounded booth.

“Let me know if there’s anything more I can do,” the hostess said as she set the wine menu down.

“Oh, the Pretty Woman moment was plenty. Thank you so much.”

The hostess curtsied and, impressively, managed a smile before she turned and headed back to the front. Charlotte made a face at her back as she left and studied the wine menu. Sure enough, the cheapest glass of wine was thirty dollars. She’d be sipping one glass all night.

Before she could glance at the appetizers, another body appeared in front of her. This one was far more favorable as she followed long legs up to a buttoned blazer, puffy lips, and those blue eyes.

“Isabella,” she smiled, standing.

“Charlotte,” Isabella replied, gesturing for them both to sit. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

“No. I nearly got thrown out, but what else is new.”

Isabella’s eyes widened, then narrowed, as if she was unsure if Charlotte was being truthful.

“Pardon?”

“Yeah, the hostess was scandalized that I didn’t have a reservation to sit and wait for you at the bar.”

“You...need a reservation...for the bar?”

“Apparently. You didn’t know that? I thought this place was a favorite of yours.”

Isabella licked her lips and shrugged. “I conduct a lot of business dinners here. I suppose I’ve never tried to wait at the bar.”

“Well, I dropped your name and she changed her tune. I doubt a VIP like you would be made to wait anyway.”

Isabella hummed and looked around. Charlotte could tell she was a bit uncomfortable. It was easy to spot with her rigid posture. She slid closer in the booth. Isabella watched her from the corner of her eye but made no other response. She reminded Charlotte of virgins that had hired her in the past. Wanting desperately to make a good impression so that she would lay them, despite the fact that it was her profession.

“Anyway, we’re here. What’s good?”

“O-oh, well, do you like wine or...something stronger?” Isabella straightened her glasses and reached for the menu.

Charlotte gave a slow smile. “I can find enjoyment in most things. What do you like?”

Isabella licked her lips again. “I enjoy the German Riesling here. It...pairs well with Indian.”

“Works for me.”

“Shall we share a bottle?”

Charlotte forced her eyes from Isabella’s profile to scan the menu. She didn’t quite know which German riesling, but either way “sharing” would cost her at least a hundred bucks. “What say you buy the wine and I buy the food?” she asked, hoping that Isabella wouldn’t notice her hesitance.

Isabella blinked. “You’re not paying tonight, Charlotte.”

It was Charlotte’s turn to blink. “Oh?”

“I was going to charge it on the company card. You can get whatever you like.”

Charlotte’s eyes widened and she reached for the menu with a renewed vigor. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this was a date.”

Isabella laughed quietly next to her. If Charlotte’s eyes hadn’t been on the menu, she might have noticed the red to her cheeks.

 

* * *

 

She was two glasses of wine in. Isabella had finished her first but was more interested in the canapes. And they were amazing. Everything here had been amazing so far, other than the hostess. Still, Isabella continued to look around and adjust in her seat. Charlotte finished off her second glass and leaned closer until their thighs brushed.

“So, how’s work going?”

Isabella exhaled and lolled her head. “About as everyone gossips.”

“That can’t be true.”

Isabella shook her head. “A lot of mistakes to correct.”

“Your own?” Charlotte tried to sound incredulous.

Isabella finally poured a second glass of wine and took a sip. “Yes,” she said as she set it down. Charlotte could feel the finality in her tone but ignored it.

“Is it Meyer?”

Isabella took a breath. “I don’t really want to talk about work. I’m there enough as it is.”

Charlotte sat up a bit and nodded. She’d pushed too far, and she eased the offense with one of her best grins as she popped a canape into her mouth. “Fair enough. What do you want to talk about?”

“Why you’ve taken a sudden interest in me.”

Charlotte did her best to stifle a laugh with her mouth full. No one would have expected Isabella to be so blunt. When she finally got it down she met Isabella’s eyes. They were as harsh as she’d ever seen them. She was bristling, guarded. Charlotte could see her smoothing her pant leg over and over.

She was like a cowering animal, backed into a corner. Eat or be eaten, and Isabella was losing more and more of these battles. Charlotte couldn’t blame her for being paranoid. Neither could she stop herself from wanting to do anything to make her feel safe. She slid closer until she could feel the warmth of Isabella’s own skin through their clothes.

“Because you intrigue me.”

“How so?”

“Well, if you’ll pardon the work talk, it was the meeting with the Chinese. You know the gossip as well as I do, the complaints about you.”

Isabella looked away, focused on a line in the wall design. Charlotte let her have her distance and kept speaking. “I thought you were just here because you were family. I thought you were incompetent. But I saw you in there. You’re a born leader, brilliant, capable.”

Despite her best efforts, Isabella’s chest was heaving with powerful breaths. Her face was still a perfect mask, but Charlotte could see her struggling. She reached out and put a hand over the one that continued to smooth her pants. Isabella swallowed, stilled, but did not move away. Her hand was warm and smooth. Charlotte allowed herself to squeeze it once and only once. She leaned in closer, voice softer.

“And I find that intriguing. I find it intriguing that you’re belittled in the open and brilliant behind closed doors. That your brother can be an utter buffoon but you receive all the flack for it. And I find it intriguing that he spoke to me today and wants me to have absolutely nothing to do with you.”

Isabella turned then, their noses almost brushing before Charlotte allowed her space. She could practically see the wheels turning behind those blue eyes. She watched those eyes scan her face, finding her lips more than a few times, and waited.

“He said that?”

“He did. But I do not fear him. And I know what I want.”

Isabella swallowed again and took another, large sip of her wine. “Perhaps you should heed his warning.”

“I don’t think you want that.”

“It doesn’t matter. Harry--

“It _does_ matter. What you want matters.”

“Charlotte, you’re fucking him.”

The brutality of the words caught her off guard, and she leaned back a bit, eyes hardening. Isabella looked into her lap and caught a breath before she continued.

“You see intrigue in me. Well, I see potential in you. You’re capable of much, much more than secretarial work. Harry could ruin your career before it even begins. When I tell you to be careful, I mean it.”

For the first time in a very long time, Charlotte didn’t have an answer. Isabella was right. Was her curiosity worth losing her career. Fucking him or no, Harry had substantial pull in the corporate world.

“Okay,” she said finally. “Okay, I will.”

Isabella looked down at her. She herself seemed surprised at Charlotte’s suddenly passive tone. Charlotte dared one final squeeze of Isabella’s hand and let it go. “But I still want to be your friend. Okay?” She held up her glass of wine

For a moment, Charlotte thought Isabella would argue. Her mouth opened, then hesitated before she let out a smile and lifted her own glass.

“Okay.” Their glasses clinked softly. As they did, Isabella looked around the bar again.

“Time for a subject change. Am I making you uncomfortable?”

Isabella made an adorable face and shook her head. Charlotte couldn’t help but smile. “Not at all.”

“You keep looking around. Afraid to see someone you know?”

“I…” Isabella huffed and looked at her napkin. “How can you tell?”

“I’ve always been perceptive. You keep looking towards the door, out the window. You’ve smoothed your pant leg about a dozen times.”

Isabella licked her lips again. She did that often. They looked a touch chapped, and Charlotte would be lying if she said she didn’t want to soothe them.

“I’m not used to people...noticing.”

“Noticing you?”

Isabella shrugged and topped off her wine. “Noticing in general. The company I keep is more concerned with themselves.”

“I imagine. Big-wig investors and company owners.”

Isabella nodded and eyed her curiously. “I’m not sure I like you reading me so easily.”

“Shame, I quite enjoy it.”

Isabella’s cheeks were already flushed from the wine but they still darkened. She placed a hand to them and shook her head. “I don’t know. This place is so…” she let it hang in the air and Charlotte picked it up.

“You don’t actually like this place, do you?”

“I like the food.”

“Yeah, but you said you were quite fond of it. You’re not.”

“...No.”

Charlotte laughed. “Then why did you bring me?”

“I suppose I just wanted to be...safe.”

Charlotte’s eyebrows rose. “Safe? Well, now you have to tell me what your favorite place is.”

Isabella smiled at her and something in that smile was different. Charlotte didn’t know if it was the wine, or their newfound friendship. But she felt that smile deep, deep in her bones. She hadn’t felt that in a long time. And she never wanted to feel anything else.

“Perhaps next time,” she said, flagging the waiter with her credit card.

“Does that mean there’s a next time, Miss Fitzwilliam?”

“It means perhaps, Miss Wells.”

Isabella paid, professionally hiding the bill from Charlotte’s prying eyes, and walked with her out into the street. Charlotte was pleasantly tipsy from the wine, her smile unhindered as she gave Isabella a soft hip bump.

“Thank you for paying. That was extravagantly amazing.”

“My pleasure.”

Charlotte had to lift her head a bit to meet those eyes. She’d have to go on her toes to kiss her. They were closer than she’d originally thought, but Isabella wasn’t stepping back. In fact, she was letting Charlotte rest against against her front. Time as an escort sometimes had her confusing situations like this. And the alcohol certainly didn’t help.

She wanted to stand up on her toes and kiss her. Grab her by the lapels of that fancy jacket and pull her down to taste her moan. She wanted to pull away from those lips and see that smile that had sent her insides smoldering earlier this evening. She could see Isabella studying her. Maybe she wanted the same.

But that was neither here nor there. She’d only just gained Isabella’s trust. And right now, the friendship was far more important than the lay.

“So, see you at work tomorrow?” she said instead, making her way to the curb to hail a cab.

“I’ll be there.”

Charlotte nodded as a cab pulled up. She opened the door to climb in when she felt Isabella’s hand on her own. She stopped and turned. That small part of her did hope that Isabella would kiss her, then climb into the cab with her and take her home.

“Charlotte, whatever comes of this friendship, remember to be careful.”

Despite the obvious concern in Isabella’s eyes. Charlotte forced herself to give a laugh, both at the comment and at her wild imagination. “Ending this nice night with a warning, eh?”

Isabella returned the laugh, shaking her head. “This is probably why I don’t have many friends.”

Charlotte could have sworn she felt Isabella’s thumb caress her skin, but she dared not look and scare her away. Instead she smiled up at her and shrugged. “Their loss,” she said before climbing into the cab. As it pulled from the curb, she watched Isabella’s mouth part in surprise before shifting into a smile she thought Charlotte couldn’t see.  


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay. Hope this chapter somewhat makes up for it. Happy Holidays!

Charlotte didn’t see much of Isabella for the rest of the week. Administration was in the middle of coordinating one of their annual fundraisers which left little time for anything else. There were meetings galore and an equal amount of minutes to type on Lydia’s behalf. Of course, Charlotte took care to examine each file or notice Quigley gave her. Given that her secret about the financials file was undiscovered, she retrieved that from the recycle bin as well.

When she could spare the time to do research, it appeared that Isabella was losing the Meyer contract. Charlotte huffed aloud as she read about yet another substandard meeting.

As a result, Harcourt’s stock was in the red. Not too much. Nothing to be concerned about, but it wasn’t a good sign. Charlotte huffed and glanced at the numbers in the file. Profits were slowly trickling down, as expected. The fundraiser brought in all sorts of super rich, and therefore had to be super rich in itself. Isabella, along with the others, had predicted that securing Meyer would give them a surplus of funds to go to the fundraiser and add to profits. It was a sound idea, Charlotte noted to herself. But it was hard to watch it crumble more and more every day.

Closing the file and grabbing her paperwork, Charlotte stood and made her way down to Harry’s office. She knocked twice and entered, finding him typing on his phone.

“These need your signature for the fundraiser,” she said as she set them on the desk. “Final preparations.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “How positively vital.” He looked down at the first page. “I’ll never be forgiven if I don’t sign off on bacon wrapped shrimp.”

“I could take it to another admin,” Charlotte offered with a roll of her shoulder. Harry declined to answer, instead returning to his phone. “Seeing as how I need to send them out today to guarantee them fulfilled.”

“I hate these fundraisers. Blatant wastes of money.”

Charlotte raised a brow. “Isn’t the charity for children?”

Harry, once again, declined to answer. From the phone, there was the distinct sound of candy being crushed. “It’s money that could go into our profits. We’re a little short on those thanks to my idiot sister.”

Charlotte made her disapproval known in a sigh and picked up the stack. “Fine, I’ll go elsewhere.”

“Do you want to come?”

She stopped, spinning back around on her heel. “What?”

“The fundraiser, do you want to come? I’d quite like the sight of you in a gala dress. And I’m sure you can provide some much needed entertainment to the evening.”

“Are secretaries allowed at such functions?”

“Who cares,” Harry shrugged, “it’s my fundraiser. I’ll have a car pick you up at 7 on Friday. Be sure to look like you’re dripping in wealth.”

“Care to help me with that?”

Harry smirked. “I think I’ve given you quite enough. Let’s see what little Charlotte can do on her own, hm?” He waved her out, not having signed anything.

Charlotte made a face at the wall as she left his office. Harry could be downright childish sometimes. She longed for the company of someone more mature and less perverted. Oh, how the times had changed. She made her way towards Isabella’s office and, finding the secretary not at her post, took it upon herself to knock at the door.

She entered at the beckoning and smiled at Isabella as she entered. Isabella smiled back and gave a lift of her chin towards the phone, holding up a finger. Charlotte nodded and took a seat, pretending to be absorbed in the papers she just brought in.

“Don’t be a bear, Meyer,” Isabella said into the receiver, “the acquisition is still profitable...well you’re just looking at the OSC, not internal--...You’re coming to the fundraiser on Friday, yes? Wonderful, I’ll speak to you then. Don’t make a decision until I do...Regardless of what your decision is, I want it to be the most informed that it can be...You’re so very gracious, speak to you soon.”

Isabella hung up the phone with a sigh and quickly typed something into her mobile before lifting her eyes to Charlotte. “Yes, Miss Wells?”

“Back to Miss Wells, are we?” Charlotte asked with a grin.

Isabella’s returning smile did not reach her eyes. Charlotte supposed she couldn’t blame her as she placed the documents on her desk. I just need final signatures on these and Harry was...indisposed.”

“Of course, for the fundraiser,” Isabella said as she uncapped her pen. Charlotte watched the graceful swirls of her signature.

“Harry’s invited me to come.”

“He did?”

Charlotte tilted her head at Isabella’s shocked expression. “Yeah, is that bad?”

“On the contrary, you’ll be a breath of fresh air.”

Isabella’s shoulders seemed to fall almost in relief and Charlotte gave a her a gentle smile. “What should I expect?”

“At the fundraiser? A lot of pomp and wealth and negotiations. But also free drinks and appetizers. You know the fundraiser is for research into diseases afflicting children, so there will be several physicians and researches.”

“Doctors, eh? Maybe this is my time to snag a husband, or a wife.” Charlotte looked for any sort of change in Isabella’s demeanor or expression, and found none. The woman only gave a small hum of acknowledgment as she signed another document. “What are you wearing to the fundraiser? How upscale are we talking?”

Isabella gave a conceding nod. “Pretty upscale, I suppose. While everyone is there to donate, the impressions made can increase the value of the donation. We want these people to like us, to like Harcourt Enterprises. I’ll be wearing a Givenchy.”

“Shit,” Charlotte breathed out, watching Isabella suppress a grin. “I’ve got nothing like that.”

“No?”

“Do you really think I’ve a Givenchy hanging in my closet? Right next to my McQueen spring line?”

Isabella laughed quietly, her cheeks turning pink. “I apologize for my presumptuousness.” She turned and reached into her purse, pulling out a familiar black credit card. “However, I shall presume that Harry offered you no help with your attire, despite inviting you?”

“You presume correctly this time, milady.”

She held the card between two fingers and extended it to Charlotte. When Charlotte reached for it, she pulled it back. “I don’t need to warn you of the fact that these purchases are monitored? I can explain away one dress, not a shopping extravaganza.”

Charlotte scoffed and nicked the card from between her fingers. “I’d rather show up naked than get you into trouble.”

“I’m afraid showing up naked might also get me into trouble.”

That piqued her interest, and she raised a brow. “Why is that? Wouldn’t be able to keep your hands to yourself?”

Isabella’s eyes went wide, cheeks now blatant red instead of soft pink. “I-I, no, that’s not what I--I meant that _others_ might see and I’d get in trouble by…”

She trailed off as Charlotte chuckled, picking up the now signed stack of papers. “You are far too easy to tease.”

Isabella looked hurt for a moment, so she tacked on, “But you’re adorable when you blush.”

Isabella looked away, a hand going to her cheek. Charlotte thought she saw the semblance of a smile, but it left when she spoke. “You can return the card to me at the fundraiser if you’d like. I won’t need it before then.”

Charlotte nodded, thanked her, and bid her farewell. She decided against the sugar momma jokes for Isabella’s sake. She was still her boss, after all. However fortunate or unfortunate that fact may be.

* * *

If there was one thing Charlotte knew, it was how to look good. Her dress was silken periwinkle and hung off of her shoulders. It hugged town her torso only to open up at her hips. Slit in the front at the knees, it flowed like water around her legs when she walked. She’d spent her own money to get her hair done and spent a lot more time than she cared to admit on her makeup. But as she waited in the lobby of her apartments for the limo, she knew it had been worth it.

People stared at her as they passed, whispering amongst themselves. She could see in their awe-filled eyes, the men’s lingering gazes and the women’s appreciative stares. It helped her spine to straighten and her smile to be easy. When the limo arrived, the driver asked no questions about her identity, because she was the only peasant for miles who looked good enough to go to such an event.

The fundraiser was at a highrise rooftop restaurant. The restaurant sat in the center while the rest of the area was open to guests to enjoy the skyline, the lawn, and the pool. In the setting sun, it was beautiful. Charlotte noticed, with a bit of pride, that most seemed to be watching her instead of the sunset as she strolled through the lawn towards the outdoor bar.

She’d just placed her order for champagne when the outdoor lights came on, twinkling overhead in rows that outlined paths through the lawn. She was admiring them as a suit came into view.

“So, this is what little Charlotte can do,” Harry said, his eyes roving up and down her dress. His suit was tailored to his form, hair pulled back neatly, and Charlotte had to admit he dressed up well.

She grinned up at him and did a twirl. “Do you approve, Mr. Fitzwilliam?”

“Very much.” He grabbed the champagne that Charlotte ordered from the bartender and offered it to her, followed by his arm. “Allow me to show you off to the masses?”

He led her down a pathway, introducing her to doctors and CEOs and everyone in between. Charlotte was no stranger to high class events. She smiled when appropriate and made engaging small talk and let her laugh be light and bell-like.

As he led her away from yet another group, Harry gripped the small of her back and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “You’re doing wonderfully. I should have brought you to these much sooner.”

“You can always make up for lost time at future events,” Charlotte smiled back. Harry chuckled and as they stepped down a few stairs, he let his hand glide over her ass and back up. A few paces later he notices a group of men and lets go of her to make his way over. He bid her no farewell but Charlotte knew better than to follow Harry where she was not invited.

She went to get another glass of champagne instead and as she waited for it to be refilled, she caught sight of something spectacular.

Isabella stood a few meters away surrounded by a few benefactors. Charlotte had never seen her hair down before, but there it was. Long, dark, and curled lazily to drape around one shoulder. She was also, not wearing her glasses. Charlotte had only envisioned that luxury for a few short moments. The blue of her eyes could be seen even from her distance. Her dress was dark purple that also hugged her hips before opening up around her legs.

Charlotte swallowed when she realized that Isabella had wider hips than she thought. The blazers had always done their part to hide them and, honestly, how dare it? Flecks of shimmering silver peppered the bottom of her gown. Unlike Charlotte’s dress, Isabella’s was slit high up one thigh to allow for movement. She let her eyes run the length of that pale thigh, down a sculpted calf and to a delicate ankle that looked like it was born in those heels. Already tall, she stood even with or taller than most of the people here.

The bartender cleared his throat and Charlotte was broken from her blatant staring. She apologized and thanked the man before taking her drink and heading over. Isabella was expecting her, and they were coworkers. Given the scattered laughs coming from the group, it was likely they weren’t discussing business. Good, because Charlotte wasn’t sure she’d be able to stay away.

Isabella caught her eye as she neared, and with the group none the wiser, Charlotte watched her eyes rove up and down her gown. No stranger to arousal, Charlotte could see it etching its way onto Isabella’s features as she arrived. She licked her lips as she sidled up to her and turned to grin towards the group.

“This is Charlotte Wells, executive assistant to the CEO,” Isabella began. She placed her hand on the small of Charlotte’s back in acknowledgement as she introduced her around the circle. The pressure felt no different from Harry’s, but it still sent another spark racing down her spine. When Isabella politely removed her hand, it was all too soon.

“A pleasure to meet you all,” Charlotte said, eyes lifting to Isabella, “I’m sure Isabella has been keeping you entertained.”

Scattered laughter, followed by one of them returning to his story. Charlotte listened and laughed, but mostly she watched. She watched the way Isabella held herself tall and the way her dove-like voice still managed to carry over the din of the party. A few short words had these people utterly charmed, practically eating out of her hand. Charlotte finished the last of her champagne, oblivious that Isabella had been watching.

“If you’ll excuse us, I think we need a refill,” Isabella said, touching Charlotte’s back once more.

They stepped away from the group and headed towards the bar, Isabella’s hand dropping again. It wasn’t until after they’d ordered that Isabella turned to her and sighed. She made no secrets of eyeing Charlotte’s dress again.

“You look stunning, Charlotte,” she breathed out with a shake of her head.

“Speak for yourself,” she answered, gesturing to the purple gown. “No glasses, no blazer, no bun. I hardly recognized you.”

Isabella went red, as she often did. “You don’t like the glasses, blazer, and bun?”

Charlotte eyed her for a moment. Isabella had at least one glass of champagne prior. And she was comfortable here, in the public eye and out from under Harry’s thumb. Fuck it.

“I like you in anything...or nothing.”

Deep blue eyes darted to hers. Charlotte watched her lick her lips and reach for the newly offered champagne. “You’ve not seen me in nothing, Miss Wells.”

“Is that an offer?”

“Perhaps if you’d shown up here naked, as promised, it might have been.”

Charlotte laughed as Isabella gave a smug smile and sipped her drink. “Well, well, well, she’s learning how to tease back.”

“Indeed. However will you recover?”

“I’ll just have to try harder.”

Isabella rolled her eyes. When she shook her head, the curls swept sweetly against her cheek. She looked over Charlotte’s shoulder and lifted her chin. “That’s Meyer.”

As subtly as she could manage, Charlotte turned and eyed the man in question. He was a short, stubby thing that seemed to be on the outskirts of an ongoing conversation. “Have you spoken to him yet.”

“No, I’m waiting to get him alone.”

“So you can strike?”

Isabella gave a soft laugh. “He’s the son of the founding Meyer and became CEO through inheritance. He doesn’t have any business sense, which is why we’re trying to acquire before it goes bankrupt. He’s anxious, nervous. I’m waiting until he’s alone so I don’t scare him off.”

Charlotte glanced back at the man. “How do you know all of that?”

“Some of it is common knowledge. Corporations are not unlike a monarchy, with only the trusted heir inheriting the fortune.” She scowled at the marble bar. “The rest is more...kindred spirit.”

Charlotte felt Isabella come closer behind her. The hand returned to her back and Isabella spoke into her ear. Her mouth was far enough away to be cool when it reached her ear, and she fought a shudder.

“See the way his drink shakes in his hand? And there, he’s just mimicking everyone else’s reactions. He’s not stepping in, not really listening. But it’s the best that he can do, so he stands awkwardly in between being in the group and out of it. He needs calm support, not bravado.”

Isabella pulled away and Charlotte fought the urge to chase. “And you thought I was good at reading people.”

Isabella lifted her champagne glass in mock toast. “You are. That doesn’t mean I’m not, as well. But in Meyer’s case, I can empathize.”

“That’s what’s got me confused right now,” Charlotte said, inching closer on her seat. “I’ve seen you just as anxious as Meyer over there. But not here. You look like you’re in your element. Just like with the Chinese. I can’t quite figure out what it is that makes you so nervous.”

Isabella raised a brow at that and circled her finger around the rim of her glass. She opened her mouth to speak, only to stop and glance over Charlotte’s shoulder again. “Please excuse me.”

Charlotte turned and watched her go, leaving jasmine in her wake. Her dress was backless, Charlotte now noticed as she watched her walk towards Meyer, who had isolated himself. Isabella approached him almost tentatively, head dipped and shoulders slumped. He said something upon shaking her hand and she beamed, elated. It was like watching an artist, or perhaps the work of art itself.

She didn’t know how long she’d been watching Isabella but it was long enough to think that a deal might be secured when she saw Harry approaching the two. Charlotte slid off the barstool, eager to get a closer look. She watched Isabella’s spine stiffen, and Meyer turn into himself. Originally, she thought it best not to disturb the two, but perhaps it might be necessary. Harry was nothing if not bravado, and given the sudden change in Meyer’s demeanor, she might need to pull off a rescue.

“It’s not difficult to understand, Meyer,” Harry said as Charlotte neared. “You’re drowning and we’re offering you a lifejacket. I’m not sure what’s got you hesitant all of the sudden.”

He threw his eyes to Isabella. To her credit, her expression was impassive. Charlotte could see her knuckles growing white from where they gripped the railing and slid her arm through Harry’s.

“Where did you run off to?” she asked, tugging lightly. Harry ignored it and turned to smile down at her.

“Work never sleeps. I was just trying to correct my sister’s grievous error by speaking to Meyer myself.”

Meyer looked to Isabella almost hopefully, but Isabella merely tightened her jaw. Charlotte could think of a litany of responses--some inappropriate and some not--but none of them came to Isabella.

“I don’t think it’s going to work, Mr. Fitzwilliam,” Meyer said finally, already ushering himself from the group. “The Meyer Group will look to someone else for the acquisition. Thank you.”

He scuttled off before any rebuttal could be made. Charlotte could feel Harry tensing beside her.

“Your incompetence never ceases to amaze me.” His voice was clipped, on the edge of unrestrained.

“I had it handled,” Isabella replied, voice shaking. She looked no different than Meyer, so starkly different from the confident woman before.

“You obviously didn’t. I don’t know why I entrusted this to you. You never fail to disappoint.”

“Harry,” Charlotte hissed, tugging at his arm.

He jerked it away from her. “And now you’ve gone and embarrassed Charlotte by making me have this conversation. How many times must we have this conversation, Isabella?”

Isabella merely swallowed. Harry stepped closer, eyes locked with hers until Isabella broke first and looked down at the floor. His hand slid up her arm and gripped her bicep. “Perhaps you’re not worth the breath.” He squeezed tightly on the last word, spoken through clenched teeth. Then he let her go and strode away.

Isabella watched him go, her hand rubbing idly over her bicep. Charlotte could make out crescent marks on her skin from Harry’s grip. She stepped forward, placing her hand over Isabella’s and stopping the motion.

“Are you okay?”

She swallowed again, eyes blinking as if they were coming back into focus. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“Isabella...he--

“I will handle it.” Isabella startled Charlotte in that moment, her voice so clipped it was reminiscent of Harry. “I always have.”

“By yourself?”

Charlotte touched the small of her back in comfort, hitching when she felt skin. She’d forgotten it was backless, but Isabella did not shy from her touch. Nor did she do anything but softly exhale when Charlotte dragged the back of her knuckles up and down her spine.

“What can I do?” Charlotte whispered at their closeness. From across the way, Harry’s laugh rose over the noise.

“Nothing,” Isabella answered, her voice cracked. “I don’t want you to do anything.” She turned and offered Charlotte a smile. “Except, perhaps, enjoy the party.”

“Isabella--

“Please,” Isabella gave a single nod, some of that strength from before returning. “Please,” whispered as a plea this time.

Charlotte could only stand with her mouth open as Isabella left her touch and made her way towards the exit. Seeing no other reason to stay, Charlotte finished her drink and made her way home.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay. I had a month long guest that took up most of my time. Updates should be more regular now.
> 
> There's some predatory behavior in this chapter. And if the chapter feels disjointed, it probably is. Trying to work myself back into the groove. Thank you all for your patience and very kind words.

They received the email a few days later. The Meyer acquisition had fallen through. Any and all projects involving potential Meyer assets were suspended indefinitely. Shortly after, human resources sent out another email, thanking several employees for their dedication to Harcourt Enterprises and wishing them a fond farewell in their future endeavors. The list was long; people hired on as extra hands for the acquisition. Absolute and utter waste of time and money and people’s lives.

Charlotte read through the list of names again. Mercifully, no one she knew was part of the cull. She wondered how many people had dropped everything and moved to a new city, a new beginning, just to have their dreams cut short. Ruthless capitalism was redundant at this point.

Stock had fallen again. That was unsurprising, but having bought her fair share when she joined the company, Charlotte couldn’t help but be invested in its outcome. Harcourt Enterprises was strong enough to withstand this blow. The question was: how many more could it take?

Her door swung open then, so sharply that the glass walls surrounding her reverberated with effort. Harry strode in, a storm in his eyes, and paid her no mind as he swept the coffee from her desk and headed to his office. The door slammed and Charlotte winced. She could see other workers eyeing her from inside her pen but kept her eyes trained on the computer.

She wasn’t exactly surprised that Harry was inordinately pissed off, but she was intrigued as to why he was so pissed today of all days. His ire this past week had rippled through the office leaving everyone on edge. Charlotte thought it to be dwindling by this point, but it seemed at its worst today. The phone to her left rang and she picked it up automatically, speaking her usual greeting.

“Good morning, Harcourt Ent--

“I’m expecting Isabella. Send her in when she arrives.”

The line went dead and Charlotte had to work to keep her mouth from hanging open. Harry’s clipped voice held a barely restrained rage that sent a shiver down her spine. She’d no sooner hung up the phone when her door opened again. It was softer this time, almost silent, as Isabella stepped through.

Charlotte was reminded of the first time she really noticed Isabella those few weeks ago. Folders clutched to her chest, shoulders slumped, it was as if the vibrant woman from the gala was no more than a dream. Charlotte rose from her chair, aware of the eyes of the entire office on them both.

“Good morning, Miss Wells.”

“Isabella--

“Please,” Isabella gave a soft shake of her head, “please, not right now.”

She lifted her hand to adjust her glasses and Charlotte need not be observant to see the shaking of her hand as it rose. And though her skin was naturally fair, the pale pallor of her cheeks made her appear sickly. Charlotte stepped closer, prying a folder from Isabella’s chest and pretending to review it for any curious onlookers.

“Are you okay?”

“Of course.”

Her words were surprisingly strong, hands gentle as she retrieved the file from Charlotte’s hands and placed it back onto her pile. Charlotte could tell that she was scared, but there was a great deal more behind those storming eyes. She remembered the way Harry’s voice sounded this morning, and the half moon marks he’d left in Isabella’s bicep at the gala. And she remembered this strange stoicism that Isabella could perfect. It was not unlike the mask Charlotte herself wore when she wished to tune something out or simply endure it. And that realization made her throat dry. She lifted her hand, prepared to offer some sort of comfort, when Isabella shifted the files in her hand and spoke.

“If you’ll excuse me, Miss Wells, I’m expected.”

Isabella turned on her heel and strode down the hallway. If she heard Charlotte’s soft call for her, she ignored it. The door opened and shut, silently this time, and Charlotte watched the shadows of footsteps dance under the doorway until they disappeared. She glanced around the office again. The nosy onlookers had returned to their duties upon watching Isabella disappear. And Charlotte knew for a fact that Lydia was taking minutes in another meeting. If she were to step closer, linger, she might catch words in the raised voices coming from Harry’s office.

As always, her curiosity got the better of her. Sparing one last glance for any onlookers, she crept down the hallway, stopping just short of Harry’s office door. This hallway only held Harry’s office, and was reachable only by stepping through Charlotte’s office. It was how Harry was able to carry himself so illicitly. While Charlotte had originally enjoyed the privacy it provided during their little trysts, she now started to consider the more sinister perks of such isolation.

Isabella’s was the first voice she heard.

“I had it handled.”

“Obviously not or it wouldn’t have fallen through.”

“You came on too strong. He’s not a businessman. He doesn’t respond to--

“To what? Competence?”

Isabella’s sigh could be heard through the door. Harry muttered something under his breath before his words became clearer. “This is just like the deal with the Chinese. I can’t afford you to be fucking up every moment of every day.”

“The Chinese deal was--

“Ruined by you. As is everything.”

There was a long silence. Charlotte felt her heart racing in rage. She formulated a litany of responses that Isabella could say in the moment. Isabella, herself, remained silent. At least for a few more moments.

“Where did the one billion from health care go?”

“Hmm?”

Isabella took a deep breath. “There’s an unaccounted for deficit in our healthcare budget. It’s why the Chinese deal fell through.”

“I’m certain it’s your job to know why deficits arise. Particularly in your precious health care budget. You spend far too much on that as it is.”

Charlotte swallowed. Harcourt Enterprises did boast amazing healthcare even for its most unskilled workers. It gained both fame from the left and notoriety from the right when it was introduced a few years ago. She’d never connected the dots that it would have been Isabella’s doing. In the end it had been overall beneficial to the company, and stock soared. Harry had always taken the credit.

“I did not authorize any funds to be removed from the budget. They have simply...disappeared.” Isabella’s voice was not as strong as Charlotte would have hoped, but it was heard.

“Are you accusing me of something, dear sister?” A pause, then Harry chuckled. “Did you just flinch? I haven’t struck you in years. But...you are tempting me.”

Even through the door, Harry’s voice made Charlotte’s blood run cold, her heart plummeting into her stomach. Isabella’s too, from the sounds of her quiet stuttering. The signs were there. Charlotte knew them intimately well. She had hoped, foolishly, that it was all talk. But Harry’s may as well have been a blow with the way it rocked her to the core.

There was a soft bumping sound, and Charlotte watched as the door shook from impact, as if someone had been pressed back against it.

“Finances are your job,” Harry growled. Charlotte wouldn’t have heard it if it didn’t sound like he was pressed right against the door. “Get it done or I will have you fired.”

“No.”

Isabella’s voice was weak, a pathetic plea in a rush of air. Something there had touched a deep, deep nerve. Charlotte’s hand clenched into a fist, bunching her skirt up at her side to keep her feet planted. She heard Harry’s chuckle again, the rustling of fabric, Isabella’s gasp.

“There are easier ways, Isabella,” he cooed. “You simply need to...let me at them.”

“Never.” Her voice was a touch stronger now. Harry chuckled again and Charlotte watched the door ease back into its natural position, the weight against it lifted.

“My, but you are fun to chase. You’d better hope, however, that I don’t tire of this cat and mouse game. Or you’ll wish you’d accepted my kinder offer.”

Isabella gasped again. Charlotte didn’t know why but she couldn’t bear to hear anymore, shooting three rapid fire knocks at the door before bursting in.

Had she not heard the conversation, she would have thought it a professional meeting of admins and nothing more. They both stood in the center of his office, two sets of near identical eyes fixed upon her. One cruel, one unreadable. But Isabella looked, for the moment, untouched. And Charlotte quickly fixed a smile upon them both.

“Coffee?”

“No,” Harry answered, already storming towards the door. “Do not just come barging into my office when I’m in a meeting,” he added, pushing her out the door and slamming it shut.

“Okay, just holler if you need me!” Charlotte urged through the door, hoping Isabella registered her words for what they were.

Their conversation quieted, moved away from the door and closer to the desk and Charlotte thought it best to leave. If she were caught eavesdropping after her intrusion...well, she didn’t want to think of the consequences.

Charlotte went to her desk and opened up the classified financial folder instead, ear turned towards Harry’s office just in case. She hadn’t taken a good enough look at the health care budget to notice that any money was missing. Now, she scanned everything with a critical eye, making mental notes of anything important. A part of her wanted to add in a formula that would inform her of changes, or even make a copy, but the risks of someone noticing were far too high.

Just as she’d closed it, she heard the office door open. It slammed shut almost immediately, and soon Charlotte heard the rapid footfalls of someone coming down the hall. Isabella breezed by her without so much as word. This time, Charlotte let her go, watching everyone’s eyes on her as she made her way back to her office. Once she was out of sight, they all slowly turned back towards Charlotte, who gave them no satisfaction by turning back to her computer and pretending to type as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

She didn’t dare leave her desk until Harry left for a lunch meeting across town. He, too, paid her no mind as he left. Charlotte couldn’t find it within herself to be worried about the repercussions of her intrusion on the meeting. She’d thought only of Isabella all day. And now was her chance to finally alleviate that worry.

She made it seem nonchalant, waiting a good amount of time until after Harry left. Then she grabbed a stack of papers. Papers that did, in fact, need an admin’s signature (she wasn’t a complete idiot). She tapped them on her desk to even the stack out, then strode out the hall, smiling at anyone who caught her eye. There was no reason why she shouldn’t be able to go to the CFO if she needed her, and Charlotte made sure her image maintained that idea.

She even chatted with Isabella’s secretary, making small talk to make it seem as if she was in no rush at all. The act was utter torture, but needs must, and when she finished a laugh and lifted the stack, her secretary nodded, bidding her entrance.

Charlotte still knocked, waited for the beckoning, before heading inside and closing the door. Isabella looked as immaculate as ever. As if what happened in the office was a routine affair. A bout of nausea hit Charlotte at the thought. How many times had Charlotte tuned out the sounds of Isabella suffering? She’d watched her walk into that office countless times.

“I’m so sorry,” she breathed out first, too caught up with her thoughts to realize what she’d done.

Isabella frowned, eyes still on whatever she was typing. “Whatever for?” Her fingers moved quickly and elegantly across the keys, never deleting once. Charlotte swallowed as she sat, daring to reach out and lay her hand over Isabella’s.

“Isabella,” she said again, “I’m so sorry.”

For a moment, she thought she would crack. She thought she saw the glisten of a tear or a quivering of her jaw. But it all passed in a blink and with a soft smile. Charlotte knew she was being masked.

“I’m a big girl, Charlotte. I can handle myself. I appreciate your concern, though.”

Charlotte wanted to desperately for that to be true. “What about the money?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it.”

“By yourself?”

She got a noncommittal hum in response, fingers moving again to finish a sentence, before she reached for the stack of papers and began to read. Charlotte watched her eyes dart back and forth across the pages, an idle hobby she’d come to enjoy.

“Isabella?”

“Hmm?” She continued to look down at the pages.

“I’d like for you to look at me.”

Isabella obeyed, deep blue eyes lifting to meet her own. Charlotte offered her the best smile she could, which wasn’t much at the moment. “I’m here for you. You know that, right? You know that I’m your friend.”

Isabella sighed and sat back in her chair. Her eyes had glossed over, looking off to the side as she rocked back and forth with the ball of her foot. “I’d like you,” she began slowly, then swallowed, as if the words were difficult, “to consider the.... _depth_ of our friendship.” Her eyes moved around the room languidly before finally falling on Charlotte’s again. And this time, they were piercing.

“And I’d like you to consider the depth of what you’re trying to get from me.”

For the upteenth time today, Charlotte’s stomach sank. The words doused her like cold water. She dipped her head in acknowledgment and exhaled.

“You’re right. You’re so very right. I’m sorry.”

“There is nothing to forgive.”

The easy tone of her voice made Charlotte feel like she meant it, but her stomach was still leaden. For all her talk of friendship, she’d been a shitty friend to Isabella. Especially when it mattered most. The least she could do was try and mend it.

“Well...we can both agree it’s been a shit day, right? Shit week, even.”

Isabella nodded, a soft smile on her lips. Charlotte was amazed she could brush things off so easily. Then again, she likely had a lifetime of practice.

“What would you say to another happy hour? Or dinner even?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed.”

“Good. Let’s go to your real favorite place this time. I’m buying.”

Isabella opened her mouth to protest, but silenced herself as Charlotte stood. “No buts. Besides, something tells me that your favorite restaurant is anything but affluent.”

* * *

 

At first, Charlotte thought the Indian place was kitschy. Patterned indian fabrics and jewelries hung from any exposed wall and made the lighting dim. It was likely a fire hazard. Hookahs were scattered around the restaurant and the air was sweet with it. Indian music streamed overhead and at the bar, Bollywood movies played from the TV.

The patrons were almost entirely Indian, however, as was the staff. And over the smell of the hookahs were the wonderful, heated spices of Indian cuisine. Charlotte shrugged to herself and made her way to the back corner. With her pale skin, Isabella stuck out in the warm hues, and was easy to find. She was still in her business suit, but the blazer had been removed and draped over her chair. Buried in her phone, she didn’t notice Charlotte approaching. A few light freckles dappled tense shoulders and delicate collarbones.

Charlotte cleared her throat and Isabella’s head shot up, phone dropping onto the table. She stood, thighs bumping the table, and gestured to the opposite chair.

“Relax,” Charlotte laughed as she sat, “this isn’t a date.”

Isabella dipped her head, nodding. “Of course, I’m sorry. I just...you startled me.”

“Sorry.” Charlotte winked and Isabella thumbed the rim of her wine glass. She looked around again at the restaurant. “This place is...Indian.”

“The decor is...excessive, yes, but--

Isabella cut herself off as a man approached their table. He reminded Charlotte a bit of an Indian Santa Claus with full cheeks and a jovial laugh. He greeted Isabella as one would a dear friend, pulling her up and into a bear hug. Charlotte giggled at the sight of Isabella being handled by a man shorter than her. That smile only widened as she saw Isabella pull away with a sheepish grin. They talked for a moment before Isabella gestured to her guest.

“This is my coworker, Charlotte. Charlotte, this is Arjun. He owns this restaurant.”

Charlotte’s mind hitched at being called a coworker. Isabella wasn’t wrong. So why did it hit her the wrong way. She couldn't’ dwell on it for too long as Arjun pulled her up and into a hug as well. He smelled like spices and cologne and the fire from a tandoor. And he gave really good hugs. No wonder even Isabella was immune.

“A friend of Isabella’s is a friend of mine. Come, friends. Anything you like, as always.”

“As always, I will pay,” Isabella answered like a scolding mother, eyes darting to Charlotte almost like a challenge. Clearly, they’d had this conversation many times before. He waved his hands at her and turned back to Charlotte. “Don’t let her pay.”

“Hey, if someone other than me pays I’m a happy girl. But this time, I promised the check was on me.”

He tipped his head back and laughed. “I like you. You’re good for her,” he said, throwing his thumb towards Isabella. “I’ll bring you a sampler. And a drink.”

Charlotte gave him her drink order and he practically skipped back to the kitchen. Isabella watched him go and shook her head, gesturing for them to sit again. Charlotte had no idea what would be in the sampler but she glanced at the menu anyway, eyebrow raised at the assortment of options.

“You know,” she said after a moment. “Having cheeseburgers on the menu doesn’t make it fusion.”

Isabella’s mouth opened a bit to counter, before she realized she didn’t have one. Even in the muted yellow lighting Charlotte could see her cheeks flush. “I know it’s a bit...much.”

“That’s one word.”

“But Arjun…” Isabella paused, a slow smile forming as her eyes circled to find the right words, “he just loves his country. And he loves America. He just...loves, and he’s effused all of that into this tiny corner restaurant.”

Charlotte watched the way Isabella’s eyes lit up as she spoke, freer than she’d ever seen the woman before. She realized then that Isabella could be herself here, without fear of repercussions or being seen. And she realized, too, why Isabella did not bring her here on their first happy hour. Ever so slowly, she was being let in to Isabella’s world.

“And,” Charlotte drawled, building suspense, “Harry and any of his associates would never be caught dead here.”

Isabella looked down almost bashfully, but conceded a nod. Arjun returned with Charlotte’s drink and a basket of naan. He refilled Isabella’s wine and winked down at her, pulling up a chair and inserting himself at their tiny table. “It’s been a long time since you’ve brought another friend with you. I was beginning to worry,” he said, picking up the naan and handing one to Charlotte.

Charlotte pretended to look scandalized. “You’ve brought other people? And here I thought I was special.” She took a bite of naan, letting the charred, soft bread linger on her palet. Her eyes went wide.

“Holy shit,” she said, mouth muffled and eyes wide before she swallowed. “Sorry, forgive the language but this is the best naan I’ve ever had.”

Arjun beamed at her, his eyes slowly turning to Isabella. “I like this one,” he repeated. “She’s a keeper.”

“She’s a _friend_ , Arjun,” Isabella said, following it with a sip of wine.

Arjun looked back to Charlotte, already on her second naan, and she shrugged. “What can I say? She’s immune to my charms.”

Isabella’s eyes widened before she took another sip of wine. The man’s smile softened into something far more sincere, intimate. Fatherly, if Charlotte didn’t know any better. “No, she isn’t.”

The two women glanced at each other. The moment was suddenly far more serious than either of them intended. Playful touches and words, idle fantasies were one thing. But for someone else to notice this little game they played around each other made it much more tangible..Charlotte swallowed, mouth dry, and joined Isabella in a drink. Arjun chuckled softly as he watched them, and stood. “I’ll go check on your sampler.”

They watched him go, and Charlotte’s skin itched at the awkward silence that was slowly settling over them. Especially with so much on the line. Harry, the company, Isabella, all of them caught up in a whirlwind that feelings would only, inevitably, complicate. But Isabella didn’t need any of that right now. Tonight, she needed a break. She needed a friend. One that was actually deserving of her. Tonight, Charlotte vowed to be just that friend.

So she raised a brow and looked to the menu again, flipping it over. “What exactly is in the sampler? Should I be worried?”

Isabella shrugged. “It changes upon his whims. But I’ve never had a bad meal here.”

“If he brings out a cheeseburger, Isabella, I swear to god…”

She laughed then, reserved but genuine. And the awkwardness lifted as quickly as it came.

In between drinks and plates and plates of food, time flew by. Arjun came over occasionally and engaged Charlotte in conversation, never failing to make Isabella blush about something or other. But for the most part, Charlotte felt like it was just the two of them. Though fleeting, this little moment was worth it for the way Isabella’s shoulders relaxed, her posture fell. The way she let her eyes crinkle when she laughed and dared to make dirty jokes and sarcastic comments.

When the time finally came to leave, Charlotte headed to the bar where Arjun was wiping it down. They hadn’t noticed the slow dwindle of customers, and only now realized they were the only ones left. He watched as she opened her purse and shook his head.

“No, no, on me.”

Isabella heaved a sigh behind Charlotte, and she bit her lip to keep from laughing. “But, Arjun,” she started, leaning on the bar and jerking her head towards Isabella. “If you want it to be a date, I have to pay. She’ll be able to talk herself out of it otherwise.”

His eyes widened in delight, clapping his hands as he ran to the register and ran a bill. It was far less than what they had partaken of, but it was a bill. And Charlotte took immense pleasure in watching Isabella fluster behind her as she paid, dumping the actual cost of dinner into the tip jar. He hugged them both, just as good as the first, and bid them farewell as they stepped out into the night.

Charlotte had a delightful buzz and she wondered if Isabella did as well, watching as she deposited her glasses into the pocket of her blazer. Her cheeks were a lovely pink, posture back to being tall and elegant as they headed out into the street and the crowd of other pedestrians.

“Feeling better?” Charlotte asked.

“Yes, much, thank you. I had a wonderful time.”

“I’m glad. I was worried--

“Please,” Isabella turned to glance at her with a coy smile. “Let’s leave it where it is for now. And enjoy the evening.”

“As you wish.” Isabella’s smile was more than worth her crushed curiosity. And there was something lingering in that smile. Something that made Charlotte’s nerves simmer in want. She hoped she wasn’t wrong about that, and to test it, she reached out and took Isabella’s hand. A gentle brush at first, a question. Until Isabella answered, turning her palm and allowing Charlotte to slot her own against it. Neither thought it best to bring attention to it. Leave it where it is for now. They walked for a few moments more before Charlotte finally noticed their surroundings.

“Where are we going?”

Isabella glanced at her, then slowed to a stop, pulling her hand and ducking slightly into an alley to get out of the way of crowd. “I...don’t know,” she said once they were out of the traffic flow. “I was just following you.”

“I was just following you.”

They shared a laugh and Isabella pointed back up to the restaurant. “I can call a car, of course, to meet us in front of the restaurant. Or here. Whichever you prefer.”

Charlotte nodded and dared to run her thumb over Isabella’s hand. She hadn’t let go of it, after all. Isabella seemed to realize that fact upon the touch and looked down as well, watching Charlotte’s thumb make slow circles against her skin. She did not pull away.

“Isabella,” Charlotte asked, stepping closer. “Would you indulge me a moment?”

Isabella blinked. “In...what?”

Charlotte closed the distance between them, pushing her buzz to the back of her mind to focus entirely on her. She knew what she felt, knew what she perceived from the woman in front of her. But she couldn’t quite be sure of anything. Not after today. Isabella did not hitch when their fronts brushed. Nor did she let go of Charlotte’s hand. In fact, hers was the one holding on.

“Am I misinterpreting anything between us? This?” She gestured to the lack of space between them.

Isabella swallowed, eyes darting back and forth. Unsure, yes, but unafraid. She’d told herself she’d be a good friend tonight. And damn her for drinking as much as she did. Damn her for not being strong enough to step away, to give Isabella space. Damn her for breaking every rule she ever taught herself when it came to boundaries. Damn Isabella’s hands for being so soft, for not letting go. Damn everything if this goes up in flames in front of her.

Isabella licked her lips. And though the action was unsure, it did nothing to quell the simmering beneath Charlotte’s skin.

“I don’t think so,” she said quietly, voice wavering.

Where Isabella was unsure, it only spurred Charlotte’s confidence. She lifted her free hand. Aware that Isabella was watching, she kept her movements slow, ready to retract at a moment’s hesitation. She dipped her finger into the waistband of Isabella’s slacks and tugged.

Isabella followed, allowing herself to be guided as Charlotte backed up into the brick wall of the alley. She tugged until Isabella was flush against her again, towering over her, hands on either side of Charlotte’s head to brace herself against the wall. Charlotte could feel each breath against each other, lost herself in those eyes. She freed both of her hands and reached up to that ever perfect bun, slowly, deliberately pulling out each and every pin.

“I love how tall you are,” Charlotte breathed out as she realized just how high she had to lift her hands to reach the bun. She thought she felt Isabella shudder against her. The bun came loose and Isabella’s long hair toppled down in creased waves. She flipped her hair, the action second nature, and Charlotte watched as it all fell to one side. The side facing the street, hiding them both from view should they move just one inch closer.

Charlotte would not make that move. She wanted to, desperately, but she kept her body firmly pinned against the wall by Isabella’s hips. She locked her arms around Isabella’s neck, toying with the soft locks, but made sure not to pull, not to persuade. She did widen her legs a bit, for her own comfort, and Isabella adjusted as well, now standing easily between them.

Isabella took a shuddering breath. A hand that was braced against the wall lifted, and Charlotte felt it cool against her cheek, feather light. She closed her eyes to focus on the touch. A thumb brushed the corner of her mouth and she parted it, feeling it glide along her lower lip.

“I’m going to say something,” Isabella’s voice was still shaky.

Charlotte opened her eyes and stilled the hands around her neck.

“And I need you to believe me.”

Charlotte couldn’t help the furrow in her brow, but she nodded anyway. Isabella sighed and dropped her head. For a moment their foreheads brushed and Charlotte could feel Isabella’s breaths against her lips, warm and wet. Isabella lifted her head and sighed again, though it was more of a huff this time.

“It’s not you...it’s me.”

The line should have made her laugh out loud. Should have made her seething in its delivery. But she had promised. And she had waited. And in that waiting she had seen the worry, the hesitance, the storm brewing behind those blue eyes. More than that, she could see the desire, feel it in her palm and taste it in the air that crackled around them, the hips that shook with effort not to move against her. This wasn’t a terrible tease. This was Isabella’s absolute best effort. And for Charlotte, it was more than enough.

She smiled and placed a hand over the one on her cheek. “I understand.”

“Do you really?”

She couldn’t blame the incredulousness in Isabella’s voice. But she turned her head and placed a soft kiss to her palm. “I think so. But you’re always welcome to explain it, if you’d like.”

Isabella couldn’t hold back the grateful, barely-there smile. She straightened from the wall and stepped away, running her hands through her hair to make it somewhat presentable now that it was down. Charlotte eased herself from the wall, but did not dare nearer until Isabella met her eyes again.

“We should talk about this,” she said, even as she pulled her cell phone out to call the car.

Charlotte hummed in agreement. “But,” she added when Isabella put the phone to her ear. She lifted her eyebrows, indicating that she was still listening despite the call. “Let’s leave this moment be...for now.”

Isabella breathed out a laugh and nodded.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I have a plot. Eventually.

Harry’s sour mood about Meyer appeared to have finally dwindled. He walked into his office the next morning with an almost saccharine smile, eyes searching hers as he sipped his coffee. It took Charlotte a moment to realize what he was hinting at behind that smile. Then it hit her like a mack truck that they hadn’t fooled around in days.

So she put on her best smile and grabbed her clipboard for “notes,” following Harry back into his office. No sooner had the door shut was she pressed against it, clipboard falling to the ground and legs spreading as Harry hiked up her skirt. 

“It’s been far too long,” he said to himself as he stepped back to undo his zipper. Charlotte waited, and when he had freed himself from his pants, she allowed him to spin her around, hands braced against the door and bent at the waist. 

“I was starting to think,” she gasped as he entered her without fanfare and began a rhythm to his liking, “that you didn’t like me anymore.”

Blunted nails dug into her hips with a particularly harsh thrust. “Hardly.”

His body draped over her back and she felt his nose nuzzling the back of her neck. She leaned into him, attempting to meet his sporadic thrusts, and felt herself falling into a daze. That is until Harry inhaled deeply and followed it up with a huff. She could feel his frustration in the quickening of his pace and frowned at the wood grain of the door. Did she offend. As casually as one could muster while being fucked against a door, Charlotte to a smell of herself. She smelled like her perfume, what--Isabella. 

She wasn’t wearing the jasmine today, the one that had driven him so wild before. The one that reminded him of his sister. Charlotte forced that particularly dreadful thought from her mind and replaced it, instead, with the sister herself. 

She thought of Isabella’s hips pressed against her that night after dinner, the way her gentle touch had sparked flames beneath her skin. When, out of pure luck, Harry managed to occasionally hit the right spot, she thought of those long fingers that curled so fluidly around a wine glass. 

Her moan was uncharacteristic. Not loud, but enough for Harry to notice. She could practically feel the ego radiating off him like some pheromone, and he grinned against her shoulder. It spurred him faster, harder, and the punctuating pain from his force did nothing to dull the fantasy in her mind. He could do as he liked. Besides, if her instincts about Harry were true, she’d much rather take the brunt of his sex than his goddamn sister. It was practically saintly, in her opinion.

So she clamped her mouth shut and thought black waves of hair, how those dulled nails would feel digging into her hips instead. Then, given her current situation, she thought of Isabella with a black harness around her hips. 

“Is--” she moaned out, barely catching herself before the second syllable. 

“Is what?” Harry crooned, voice low.

“Is, ah, is it getting close on time?” Thank god her cheeks were already flushed as she tried to turn her head to glance at the clock. 

Harry fisted the hair at the back of her head and jerked it back towards the door. “You let me worry about that. I want to hear you moan again.”

Where only the door could see, Charlotte rolled her eyes. But she did as she was told, moaning softly and shuddering when appropriate. She could tell by Harry’s perpetual grunting that he was getting close and rocked her hips against him, hoping to spur it on. What she did not expect was for Harry to lean over and bite down on her shoulder.

He bit hard. Charlotte couldn’t restrain the little yelp of pain as Harry finished, teeth digging in and sucking hard on her skin. 

“Fuck,” Charlotte hissed, fighting every instinct to jerk away from him. He let go eventually, and Charlotte’s hand raised to the mark, feeling the welt rising. When she pulled her hand away, she was surprised and grateful to find no blood. It throbbed angrily, still sore, and she turned to glare at him. 

“What was that for?” she asked, strolling over to the window to examine her reflection. She swore under her breath at the sight. No amount of collar tugging would cover that up. Hopefully she had enough concealer at her desk. 

Harry hummed behind her and she winced as she felt his fingers dance over it. “Just felt like it.”

“Gonna need a rabies shot.”

He chuckled, oblivious to her rage, and sat down at his desk. “I’m expecting the finance report soon, as well the future global review. Ms. Quigley should be by to drop it off. And will you be a dear and make me a reservation at that Thai place I love for lunch? Around 1:30, table for four.”

Fearing that something regrettable would tumble out should she open her mouth, Charlotte merely nodded and headed out the door. She nearly toppled right into Lydia Quigley.

In hindsight, she should have been prepared. Lydia was obnoxiously early to everything, including report deliveries. She took a step back and flashed her signature, fake as hell smile to Charlotte. 

“Good morning, Miss Wells, just dropping off the reports. You weren’t at your desk,” she spoke as if it was some great sin, “so I thought I’d just bring it right to him.”

“How very kind of you, Ms. Quigley,” Charlotte answered just as sweetly and just as fakely. Then she watched Lydia’s eyes dart down to her shoulder, and her smile widened. 

“My,” she said, her voice lowered, “someone’s had a busy morning. I suggest you cover that up. People will talk...you know.”

She winked and, without giving Charlotte a chance to respond, breezed past her and into the office. The cheerful way in which Harry greeted her unannounced arrival only incensed her further. With what dignity she could muster, Charlotte closed the door behind her and headed to her desk. She grabbed her purse and made her way to the bathroom for a quick touch up. Her concealer didn’t quite match, but hopefully it would be enough to keep anyone from noticing. 

Not that it mattered much anymore. If Lydia knew, soon the entire office would. Her supposed tryst with Isabella was still being flung about. Perhaps Lydia would assume that Isabella made that mark. It would be easier. She didn’t mind rumors about fucking the CFO. Wished they were true, in fact. But fucking her very own boss would lose her any and all respect. Not to mention ruin any and all chances of upward mobility. 

Charlotte’s chest ached with a building pressure as she put her purse back in the drawer and sat at her desk. She tried not to let all the horrific scenarios distract her. Isabella had mentioned that Harry had many secretarial trysts before. Perhaps this was a known secret and nothing would happen. Or perhaps it would be used to push her ass out the door. 

She mulled over it all morning as she worked, trying and failing to distract herself. Lydia had left hours ago and had flitted her way about the office, talking incessantly. Unfortunately for Charlotte, Lydia always did that, so she had no idea what she was or wasn’t telling. An even worse thought would be if Lydia was holding this information over her head to use it at a later time. 

“Charlotte?” a soft voice brought her from her thoughts. 

She glanced up at Isabella, dressed smartly in a gray blazer, glasses and bun ever-present. For the first time this morning, she smiled. 

“Isabella, sorry I didn’t hear you come in.”

“You seemed distracted. I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Charlotte scoffed. “Interrupting the secretary? No such thing.”

Isabella’s eyes flitted behind Charlotte’s shoulder and she lifted her chin. “Is he in?”

She glanced at the clock on her computer. “No, he’s just left for lunch.” 

Charlotte wondered about how much time she’d lost during this day fretting when she realized that Isabella hadn’t answered her. She lifted her eyes to find Isabella staring not over her shoulder this time, but right at it. Of course, her concealer had probably long since faded. Charlotte brought her hand over the mark and winced at the tenderness. It had probably turned into a vibrant bruise at this point. 

She huffed and reached for her purse again, pulling out her concealer. Isabella’s form hid her from any onlookers in the office. “Are you okay?” Isabella finally spoke as she blindly dabbed at the mark with a coated thumb.

She nodded and rolled her eyes. “Just sorry you had to see it.”

“Was it him?”

“Mhmm. Guess he thought he had to claim me somehow.”

Isabella sighed and shook her head. “I’m sorry. All my life Harry has set out to take what’s mine.”

Charlotte lifted a brow. “I’m yours, am I?”

The blush was instantaneous. Isabella shook her head so quickly that Charlotte thought her glasses might fling off. “I apologize. That was a very poor choice of words. You are no one’s but your own.”

Charlotte leaned back in her chair, feeling very much the authority and loving every moment. She crossed one leg over the other and rocked the chair back and forth slowly. “I wouldn’t mind being yours,” she said, letting it hang between them for a moment before having mercy. “It might be easier soon, in fact. I might be out of a job.”

“What, why?”

Charlotte pointed to her neck. “Quigley saw this as I came out of his office.”

“She’s also the one who started the rumors about you and me.”

“Yes.”

Isabella stepped forward then, leaned a little over the desk. Charlotte stopped rocking and brought the chair back down, bringing them a little closer. Keeping her eyes on her neck, Isabella reached out and smoothed over a rough line of concealer. The softness of her touch blended with the sting of the welt made her want to squirm and lean in for more. Charlotte swallowed, tried to will Isabella’s eyes to reach her own, but failed. 

“I will handle it,” she finally said quietly. “You needn’t worry.”

“What do you mean, ‘you’ll handle it?’”

“I always have.”

Her voice sounded far away. The sound of Charlotte’s door opening had Isabella straightening her spine and turning. Her hand made to move from her neck, then stopped. Charlotte looked up at the tall woman standing next to her, then to her door. 

Speak of the devil, and she appears. And she looked  _ delighted. _

“Oh, Miss Wells, Miss Fitzwilliam, I do hope I’m not intruding.”

Charlotte made to open her mouth, quip already on her lip, but Isabella spoke first. “On the contrary, we were talking about the gossip that had befallen the office.”

Quigley’s smile remained intact. “Whatever do you mean? Something I haven’t heard?”

“Nothing specific,” Isabella dismissed in her beautifully administrative way that made even the most boisterous Chinese businessman quiver. “Gossip in general. It runs amok in this office and is really quite unprofessional, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I--

“I can’t imagine anyone working here has so little work to do that they spend their time spreading lies. How appallingly juvenile.”

Lydia smile had faded, mouth pursed into a thin line. Most likely to keep her thoughts to herself. Charlotte tried not to look utterly in awe. How Isabella could flip the switch like this was amazing. This was the woman who would push her against the wall and have her way with her. And she was glorious to watch. 

“So, I’m enlisting Charlotte and a few others to...set an example, if you will. Would you care to enlist as well, Ms. Quigley?” Charlotte felt Isabella’s thumb stroking her neck, likely wiping away her preciously applied concealer. She watched Lydia’s eyes fall to the movement but Isabella did not stop. “I want to see if we can slow the rumors down. And if we manage to find the culprit who’s most responsible, send them out the door. What do you say? After all, you’re such a hard worker, I know you’d never stoop so low as to baseless gossip.”

Lydia hummed quietly to herself. “No, I suppose not. Does this include the CEO as well?”

Charlotte did not like the way her smile came back. Nor did she like the fact that Isabella’s fingers seemed to tense ever so slightly against her skin. “Of course. I’m sure he has better things to do than listen to that kind of drivel.”

“In that case, consider me honored to help.” She feigned a bow, dropped off the minutes that she expected Charlotte to type up, and saw herself out. 

Both of them heaved a sigh at her absence. Charlotte longed to put a hand over the one at her neck, but too many people were around now. Isabella removed it almost a moment later, adjusting her glasses.

“I hope you haven’t kicked the hornet’s nest,” Charlotte said as she adjusted in her seat.

Isabella shrugged. “It’ll be fine.”

“What if she tells Harry?”

Another shrug. “I’ll just say I was trying to take a bullet for him and deflect rumors.”

“And if it doesn’t work?”

“It will.”

“How are you suddenly so confident?”

Isabella looked down at her, frowning. “I’m always confident.” She caught Charlotte’s incredulous stare and immediately blushed. “On...certain things.”

Charlotte grinned as she flipped open Lydia’s minutes and began looking through them. “Is this the woman that’s going to pull Harcourt Enterprises out of the red?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes.” She shook her head, expression becoming tired. “I’ll do what I can.”

Charlotte almost fell for it. She almost fell for those kind, tired eyes and that weary smile as Isabella headed out the door. But she knew all too well what a mask looked like. And though Isabella was a master at it, she couldn’t fool Charlotte. She was hiding something. The moment Isabella disappeared from view and the other employees had returned to their work, Charlotte snuck a peak at the financial file.

“That can’t be right,” she said as she scrolled through the numbers. But there it was, freshly edited and written in green. All of the money lost on the Meyer acquisition was back. And not a single other figure had changed. Perhaps Isabella’s mask went deeper than she thought.


End file.
